


Father

by WhoIsThisAgain



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Dante is Logan and Virgil's dad, Fluff and Angst, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Roman and Remy are also siblings, Slow Burn, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Virgil and Logan are siblings, he tries his best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16017953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoIsThisAgain/pseuds/WhoIsThisAgain
Summary: Virgil and Logan Fulgencio received a bad news about their father, Dante. They had to come together to care for their father and they found something about him along the way. What they found about Dante would make them regret, not about what they have done, but about what they have not done. So, the brothers set out to make their father happy for the last time.---A story about the importance of a family





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, welcome to 'Father' a story of how a tragedy brought a family together.  
> Please leave comments and maybe drop some kudos on your way out! Do tell me if you think there are things I could improve, so I can make your reading experience better. That's it from me for now.
> 
> Check out my other work, called The Hour (also Sanders Sides). You can find it [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070814)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Virgil stood over their father's grave. At least they knew that he died a happy man.

A funeral is never pretty. Tears, howls of despair, handshakes and murmurs of fake sympathy. Funny thing, death. It divide and unite people at the same time. Most times, people don’t really care about you when you’re alive. People don’t see your pain—physical and emotional—and they don’t feel the need to pay attention. And when death comes, that’s when people come and regret. “I should have done this,” or “I should have done that.” Suddenly, people started to pay attention. Not out of care or sympathy, but out of remorse.

Dante Fulgencio was a good man. His children didn’t realize this until it was almost too late. Almost. His two sons had done something just before he passed and he died a happy man. Sure, he wasn’t the best father. Dante himself knew this, but he still tried his best to be the best support to his children.

Logan stood over his father’s grave. He was usually a man of thought and knowledge. That moment, though, Logan didn’t know what to think. It was a hot, sunny day. It was bright and the trees danced in the blowing wind, leaves rustling, making a peaceful atmosphere. Logan felt anything but peaceful. He felt so helpless. When his father was diagnosed with cancer, Logan had been concerned. Well, who wouldn’t? He wanted to help as much as he could, but you can’t negotiate with cancer. Dante passed away five months later. A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. Of course, how could he have forgotten that his brother was mourning, too?

“Do you think we did enough for him?”

Logan thought about the question for a moment. _‘Did we?’_

“We… We did our best, Virgil.”

Virgil nodded. His eyes were starting to water again. He felt guilt and remorse. He should have done more for his dad. He should have seen that his dad was trying his best, but now it was too late to tell his dad how much he meant for Virgil. _‘I’ll miss you, dad.’_ A single tear fell as he blinked. Then another and another and another. He couldn’t stop thinking how he can no longer make his dad proud, how he can’t tell his dad that he was enough for Logan and him. He could only think how he had failed his dad.

Dante Fulgencio was a good man. Not as good a father, but he did his best. And, he was loved.

 

* * *

 

Logan drove away, the cemetery becoming smaller and smaller in the distance. Then, it was out of sight. He sighed heavily, leaning back on the driving seat as much as he could. He spared a brief glance at his brother, who was looking out the car window, seemingly deep in thought. _‘At least I still have Virgil.’_ The Fulgencio brothers were similar in the way that they think. They think more realistically than most people. They would think of all possible outcomes of their actions and all possible consequences. They were different in the way that they process their thoughts. Logan was somewhat more rational and reasonable, always thinking in a ‘cause and effect’ line. For Virgil, thinking was a bit of a dangerous habit. He was almost always pessimistic, looking at the darker side of things. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it would sometimes tire him and his brother out.

“Virgil,” Logan brought Virgil back from whatever thoughts he was having. “Do you need anything? You can talk to me if you need to.”

“I’m… okay, I’m not fine, but I think I’ll be alright.”

“Alright then.” Silence followed Logan’s words. Neither of them were up to talking, but Logan knew if Virgil were to be left alone with his thoughts, it would not end well for him. “Virgil, do you remember the video that we made for fath—dad, I meant dad. Do you remember?”

Virgil looked up at his older brother from his hunched position on the passenger seat. He remembered the video. It was his idea to make the video for their dad. He almost forgot about the video with all the mess that happened in the past week, but yes, he remembered. “Yeah?”

“He liked the video, Virgil.” Logan said, still focused on the road.

Virgil looked back outside. Maybe, he did manage to make his dad proud. Even if it was only once.


	2. A Horrifying News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan received a terrible news about his father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of this chapter, there's a mention of Burçin's Galaxy. It's a new galaxy discovered by Burçin Mutlu-Pakdil and her team. You can find out more [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv5-hIif7BQ)

Logan remembered that day very well. As usual, he was working in office in his apartment. It was initially a spare room that he never used and eventually he had the idea to turn it into an office. Logan liked working. He worked in the research team for NASA and he made good money doing it. He was even able to help his father pay for his brother’s college tuition with his job. Sure, he didn’t always get along with his father, but he would help. If only for Virgil.

It was still early when the call came. Logan was reviewing on his team’s discovery on Burçin's Galaxy a few weeks earlier, led by Burçin Mutlu-Pakdil. His peace was broken when he heard his phone rang, interrupting his work. He reached for his phone that sat next to the cup of coffee on his desk and saw an unfamiliar number. _‘This better be important.’_ Clicking the receive-call button, he greeted the person on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, Logan Fulgencio speaking. How may I help you?” Logan didn’t actually have to be formal all the time. He knew this. However, he liked keeping a professional aura so people knew to take him seriously.

 _“Yes, I am doctor Corwin from Sanders National Hospital. Do you know or in any way related to Dante Fulgencio?”_   The voice of a man could be heard through the phone. He sounded rather frantic.

“Yes, I’m his son. Is there anything amiss?”

 _“This is an emergency. Your father had driven to the hospital on his own and only managed to give two phone numbers to the receptionist before he collapsed.”_ Doctor Corwin explained. _“We called the first number, but no one answered. As of now, we haven’t made any diagnosis, but it seems very serious. I recommend you come to the hospital right away.”_

“Alright, thank you doctor.” Logan hung up the phone. Despite never knowing his father very well, Logan was still concerned as any son would be if their parents were ill. He blamed himself for not paying more attention to his father that he doesn’t even notice something was wrong. From the brief phone call he had with the doctor, whatever his father had must be bad. It could, in fact, be _very_ bad. Logan tried to stay optimistic. _‘He will be fine.’_

 

* * *

 

_“Virgil, can you come to the hospital? Right now.”_

“What?! What’s wrong? Are you okay, Lo?”

_“I’m fine. It’s father. I think the hospital tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.”_

“Of course, I didn’t. You know I don’t answer unknown numbers.”

After hanging up the call, Virgil got up from his couch. As usual, he was watching _Doctor Who_ in his small apartment before Logan called him to come to the hospital. He actually preferred to live with Logan in his brother’s apartment, but it would be farther away from his campus. So, Logan managed to rent him a small apartment near campus. It’s not too bad, if he had to say so himself.

As he took his wallet from his room and pocketed his phone, he wondered how he didn’t realize how his father had been sick. As far as he know, his father was a very healthy man. Rarely drinks, never smoked once in his life. So, what made him sick? He didn’t know if it was a serious illness or not, but he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. _‘Well, when have I ever feel good?’_

Once he arrived at the hospital, Virgil texted Logan to ask where he was. A few minutes later, the Fulgencio brothers were told to wait in the waiting room. As they sat side-by-side in silence, they both quietly wondered what could have been happening that it was so serious. How did they not notice that something was wrong with their father? They both felt like they were not good enough as children—though, for different reasons.

Logan felt responsible, because as the oldest child, he felt he was supposed to be able to take care of everyone. It was true that Logan was not the best with emotions. Even a blind man could see that. However, Logan felt that he could at least remind his father of the importance of healthy living and habits. Perhaps, he couldn’t deal with emotional problems—that was more of Virgil’s area, but even he was not that well equipped to help emotionally—but he could have at least pay attention to his father’s physical health.

Virgil felt guilty, because he felt that he should have cared for his father more. He should have visited his father in his spare time, maybe help him if he had any problems. Virgil never understood his father, but he still did a lot for Virgil. He paid for Virgil college tuition with Logan’s help and he had helped him through hard times, especially when his mother passed away.

After about thirty minutes of waiting, Logan and Virgil were finally able to see their father.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, Mr. Fulgencio, we have our diagnosis.” Doctor Corwin said somberly. To the people who knew Patton well, they would have known that something was wrong. He wasn’t usually serious and straight-faced like this—even with patients. The only times when he would drop his happy-go-lucky act—well, it wasn’t an act per say, but it’s not important right now—was when he was alone or when he was having an incredibly serious conversations with his patients.

It had been about a week to ten days since Mr. Dante Fulgencio came to the hospital and collapsed in the front of the receptionist desk. He was immediately taken into the emergency room. Dante was incredibly frail and it seemed like he was in a lot of pain. The middle-aged man had to stay in the hospital, because he was too weak to do anything. Patton had noted that he looked almost lifeless. The shadows on his face made his sharp cheekbones look more pronounced, making his features look more hollow. From what Patton saw, Dante would have been a strong man if he was healthy, given the still-visible muscles of his arms and shoulders despite his declining health.

“During our test on your father, we found cancer cells in the stomach walls. Unfortunately, it had already spread towards the liver and spleen. The lungs are starting to get affected by the cancer as well. We found that it is already in its late stage, so it is most likely incurable…” He trailed off upon seeing Logan’s blank face. He let out a small sigh and took a deep breath. This always happens whenever he had to break terrible news to his patients or their family members. So much tears. Fear, despair and anger. So, he waited for Logan to process the information that he had just given the man.

“I’m sorry… _cancer?_ Are you sure you made the right diagnosis?” Logan said, his emotionless facade was starting to crack. This can’t be right. His father was a healthy man and as far as he knew, there was no cancer history in Dante’s family. He must have misheard something or Doctor Corwin must have made a mistake. A _big_ mistake. Logan let go off his professional, stoic act and his straight posture shifted. He cradled his head in his hands with his back hunched over. Exhaling loudly, his posture deflated completely.

“Um… Are you alri—okay, that’s a stupid question, of course you’re not alright. Um, do you need anything?” Patton was used to comforting people during tough conversations, but the man sitting before him had seem so distant. He didn’t know if physical contact would help, but for the first time, Patton didn’t want to risk it. The small huff of laughter that escaped Logan’s lips came as a surprise to Patton. The laugh, he realized, was not because of joy. It was a laughter of defeat.

He was used to dealing with tears and anger when he announce a serious diagnosis, but never once in his entire career did he have to deal with laughter. A laughter that sounded so heartbreaking, it was as though a knife had cut through his chest. He got up from his desk and seated himself  on the empty chair next to Logan’s. His hand hovered on Logan’s back hesitantly before he set it down carefully. Logan himself didn’t seem to notice the hand rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him.

After inhaling a deep breath, Logan straighten his posture and put his emotionless mask back on. He glanced to his side to find the doctor looking at him with sad eyes. That was all that Logan found in those amber eyes. Sadness. He was glad he didn’t find any trace of pity, because he hated feeling like he was fragile.

“Alright then, doctor. Anything else I should know?” Logan broke the silence that hung over the doctor’s office.

“Uh, yes, um—your father is most like incurable, like I said, but we might be able to give him treatment to relieve him of the symptoms. That way, he won’t be in too much pain and we might be able to slow down the growth if the cancer.” Patton explained briefly. He hated hearing himself sound so formal and clinical, but that’s his job. “That’s it for now.”

Logan nodded in acknowledgement and stood up. “Thank you, Doctor Corwin. Oh, and doctor, does my father know?”

“Know…?”

“Does he know about the diagnosis?”

The doctor nodded sadly. He excused himself out of the office. He had a very important phone call to make.

 

* * *

 

“What?! Say that again.” Saying that Virgil was shocked was an enormous understatement. He had been so distressed that he ended up not eating for the rest of the day even though the phone call was around noon. If Logan knew, he would have scolded his little brother.

 _“Virgil, I know it’s difficult. He is still in the hospital, so we can visit him tomorrow if you want and—”_ Before Logan could finish his sentence, Virgil cut in with an exclamation.

“Yes! Hell the fuck yeah, I’m going to visit him… Logan, what if he… what if…”

 _“Listen, Virgil, I cannot guarantee that he will not—that he will not… die… but, we can do our best to make sure he’s content_ now. _”_ Logan had to push that single word with difficulty. The thought that his father could _die_ in the near future sat unpleasantly in Logan’s mind. _“Are you alright, Virgil? Do you need me to come over?”_

“No, no, I’m fine. Just… tell me when anything else happens with dad.”

After hanging up the phone, Virgil walked into the living room of his small apartment and throwing himself onto the under-stuffed sofa he bought online. He laid in silence, staring at the ceiling. How did he not notice anything? How could he have let this happen? He could have done something if he had noticed that something was wrong with his dad earlier. He should have paid more attention. He should have cared for his dad more. But, he didn’t. The most important question though, was why did his dad not tell him or Logan if he was sick?

He could have told either Virgil or Logan that he felt unwell. They would have helped him sooner. If he did that, maybe the cancer wouldn’t have grown so vicious. Virgil silently regretted all times he ignored his dad, all the time he acted selfishly whenever his dad needed him to do something. He regretted not trying his best to be a better son.

All those times Dante tried to have a bonding time with his sons, they always rejected their dad. The worst thing was that Dante had accepted all the rejection that his sons threw at him. He had accepted that perhaps his children didn't like him, but he kept trying. And it was heartbreaking. When his wife passed away a few years ago, neither of his children were there to help him through his grief. How was he not angry at his children, you might ask. Well, Dante saw that his children have just lost their mother.

And so it goes, regret always comes later. Now with their father dying, the brothers were helpless. Death does not accept bargains. Death does not give mercy. It takes and it takes and it takes. And so it goes, regret always comes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! Thanks for reading y'all! Leave a comment if you'd like and subscribe so you get notified when I post new chapters.
> 
> See y'all in the next one!


	3. Everything is Messy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the doctor told Dante about his condition, he accepted that he was dying.  
> Logan tried to help, but he's crap at dealing with emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been more than two weeks, sorry for the late update. Enjoy!

Dante was lying awake on his bed. A hospital bed. The clinical white that surrounded him was a reminder that he was dying. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but he couldn’t do anything other than accept the fate that he was given. Last week had been hellish. He had been vomiting every time he eats and one time, he got a horrible stomach ache. The day he drove himself to the hospital, Dante had another wave of pain in his stomach and chest and it felt like he was going to collapse at any moment. Using the last of his energy, he drove carefully to the hospital. Once he was in the emergency room, the headache had been so unbearable that he was only able to give the receptionist his name and—incoherently—gave them his two children’s phone number before finally collapsing in the middle of the room.

When he woke up, his children were there, holding his skinny, clammy hands. They were asleep, so he assumed it was night time, which made sense since it was already late evening when he drove to the hospital. His left hand was hooked up to several IV bags, which made him cringe a little. He had always hated needles. Dante tried to wake his sons, calling their names, but only squeaks escaped his throat. Only then did he realize that his throat felt like sandpaper. Carefully, he took out one of his hands from Logan’s hold to reach for the glass of water next to him. The movement woke Logan and he immediately helped his father reach the glass of water. After he had his drink, Logan set the glass back on the table.

“Are you better?” Logan asked, his voice hushed so he didn’t wake his sleeping brother.

“I’m fine, Logan.” Dante croaked out. _Obviously,_ he was nowhere near “fine,” but Dante being Dante would always hide his condition even if it was obvious that he lied.

“No, you’re not, father,” Logan sighed. “You could have told me. Or Virgil. Why did you hide it? If it was this bad, you must have been sick for some time.”

“It’s okay, Lo.” Logan stiffened at the nickname. Dante hadn't called him by that nickname in years. “I’ll be fine.” Logan nodded, not realizing his father didn’t answer his question. Later on that night, a doctor came in and informed him that he needed to stay in the hospital until they made a diagnosis. He didn’t bother remembering the doctor’s name. He was too tired.

 

* * *

 

It’s been almost a week and today was supposedly when the doctor should come with a diagnosis. That morning, Dante was alone in the hospital room, watching boring television. Luckily, he had told Logan to bring a book or two for him to read in his spare time. The hospital was boring. Even though he knew he was _probably_ dying, Dante wasn’t scared. When he was younger, in his twenties, he has always thought that death and dying in general would be terrifying. Now, finally looking at Death straight in the face, he didn’t feel fear. At least, not that kind of fear. The only thing he was afraid of was leaving his children with his problems. He didn’t want his sons to have to deal with his problems and become a nuisance to them, even after death. He sighed in defeat and leaned back on the bed.

Retrieving one of the books Logan had brought him, _The Murder of Roger Ackroyd_ by Agatha Christie, he flipped through the pages, letting the story wash over his mind. A little while later, he heard the door opened, indicating someone was entering the room. Putting the book down on his lap, he leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of who was in the room. It was the doctor from last time.

“Good morning, Mr. Fulgencio. I have with me your diagnosis.” The doctor said, waving the file he was holding. From the look of sympathy that he was giving, it didn’t seem like it was any good. Dante could only nod in acknowledgement, his heart hammering in his chest in anticipation. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I guess.” Dante responded, his voice coming out a little croaky.

“Okay,” The doctor said again, “now, serious business.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “During our test, we found cancer cells in your stomach walls. It’s already in late stages and have spread to the surrounding areas, so it’s most likely incurable…” The doctor trailed off upon seeing Dante’s blank expression. He sighed, giving the patient a small smile of sympathy. Patton never got used to delivering heavy news to patients. There are times when patients would reject and deny the diagnosis and frankly, he understood. Of course, accepting that you have a deadly disease is not easy and sometimes it will break your mental wall to bits.

Dante was quiet the whole time. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to think and he didn’t what to feel. All he could do was listen while the doctor told him that he was dying. Cancer. That’s no joke. Why cancer, though? He never smoked or drink too much. So, why?

“Cancer…” He huffed in defeat. He needed to process that information. “Do you know what caused it?” He asked, looking as composed as ever.

“Most likely stress, sir.”

Dante gave the doctor a sad smile. A _sorrowful_ smile. “How long do I have?”

“Seven months at most,” the doctor answered briefly, not wanting to say anything else. “I’ll leave you now, sir.”

“Doctor?” Dante called as the doctor walked towards the door. “Just Dante is fine.” The doctor nodded before leaving the room.

As he leaned back on the bed, Dante let out another heavy, defeated sigh. He was going to die, sooner or later. He was going to leave his children, alone. He’s going to meet his wife again, soon. Dante wasn’t afraid of death, but that didn’t mean he wanted to die. He looked at the book that was sitting on his lap. _‘How would my children remember me?’_

 

* * *

 

Logan was, to say the least, concerned. And a little scared. From what he’d heard Doctor Corwin said, his father only had a few months at best. That’s not enough. Not enough time for him to make his father happy again for the last time. He wanted to do something memorable—monumental—that his father would appreciate. Now that death is imminent, Logan regretted never doing anything more for his father.

The day after the doctor told him about his father’s condition, he had paid his father a short visit and went home. He opened his computer and did some research of his own. The doctor never told him what caused the cancer his father had, but from what he got, the most likely causes are smoking or drinking. Dante was neither a smoker or a heavy drinker, so both of those are unlikely causes. The other likely cause would be stress. Logan wasn’t sure _how_ or _why_ his father would be that stressed. He would have to investigate on his own, possibly with Virgil’s help. He knew his father would never tell him.

Today, it had been two days after he got the diagnosis from the doctor. Doctor Corwin seemed to be an interesting person. Logan didn’t spend much time with the man, but he could see that the doctor was very sympathetic. During their serious talk, the doctor had looked so sad, like a beaten puppy. Logan was more than a little confused by the man. From what he knew, doctors don’t usually comfort patients in that way—at least, not from what he experienced before. Doctor Corwin was very open and genuine that for a moment, Logan didn’t really know what to do or how to react. Now, enough about the doctor. He needed to pick Virgil up to visit their father in the hospital.

 

* * *

 

Logan and Virgil had already been in the hospital for about an hour. Logan took a day off his work and Virgil didn’t have class until later at four in the afternoon. So, they both decided to stay in the hospital as long as they possibly could. The hospital wasn't the most exciting place in the world. The smell antiseptic always linger in the room. The bright white walls, bed and equipment were tiring too look at. Everything was boring. The beeping of the cardiac monitor was making Virgil a little nervous. Even with the discomforting environment, Logan and Virgil chose to stay.

“You can go if you want,” Dante said after sensing Logan’s restlessness. “I’ll be fine here.”

“Nah, it’s fine dad. Logan’s just… Y’know, Logan’s weird.” Virgil smirked at his brother. He was sitting on a chair next to the bed, not really wanting to sit on the old sofa in the corner of the room. Logan only rolled his eyes and walked over to mess with Virgil’s hair, earning a glare from him. He knew that would annoy Virgil.

“Yes, it’s alright. Now, how long have you _actually_ been sick?” Logan directed his question at his father. He had looked better than he was during his first night in the hospital. Not as pale or as weak anymore.

“I don’t know,” Dante shrugged. “Two or three weeks? I think.”

Logan sighed in mild frustration. Why didn’t he even try to tell either him or Virgil? Why did he always have to lie and hide everything that was going in his life? Logan didn’t understand his father’s motivations. _Something_ was bothering his father, but he didn’t know what it was. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know _how,_ because he didn’t actually know what the problem was. All he wanted was for everything to end well and for his father to understand that he had his children’s support. Logan paced back and forth in the room slowly, thinking about what he wanted to—have to—do. He knew whatever it was that troubled his father would have a lot to do with emotions, which was the one thing he was _not_ good at. He sighed again.

“You could have told us,” Logan approached the bed, speaking to his father gently. “You _should_ have told us. And really, _we_ should have noticed.” Logan directed his gaze at Virgil who felt just as guilty and concerned as Logan himself was.

“Well,” Dante said after a little while, “it’s too late now. Also, whether or not I told you sooner, I’m still dying anyway.” The brothers had never heard their father sound so _hopeless._ Not even when their mother died. He had been strong back then. He had been strong for all of them, had distracted himself with his work. Now, though, he had sounded so woeful, so defeated. Dante gave his children a small, sad smile. Ever since his wife’s death, he had never seen the world in a too-optimistic way anymore. With the added knowledge of him dying of cancer, his hope for the world was tarnished.

Virgil reached out to place a comforting hand on Dante’s arm. The sorrowful atmosphere in the room wasn’t helping anyone’s mood. The heavy stress and anguish that loomed over them felt suffocating. That is, until a certain doctor came through the door with a nurse behind him.

“Afternoon, gentlemen!” Doctor Corwin seemed more upbeat today than he was when he delivered the terrible news a few days ago. “How are you?” He directed the question at Dante who was sitting on the bed. Dante shrugged, not knowing what to answer. He was definitely not fine, but he wasn’t completely down in the dumps either. The doctor ignored the vague respond and looked around the room. When his eyes spotted Logan who was standing not too far from the bed, he offered the taller man a smile and a nod.

Turning his attention back to the patient, he spoke again. “We’re just changing your IV bags and I’ll need to tell you about some of your medications.”

Dante frowned when he saw the medical equipment on the tray. He frowned deeper when he saw the needles. He had always hated needles. They’re so tiny, but _sometimes_ they feel like the devil’s claw pricking your skin. Injections are the worse. After everything was done, the doctor started to list all the medications needed and other possible addition to the already-many numbers of medicine. It was going to be a lot of money.

Speaking of money, now that Dante wasn’t able to work like he used to anymore, Logan would have to pay for Virgil’s college tuition himself. Plus, he still had to pay rent for himself and Virgil—and don’t forget the hospital. This was going to be a lot of work. He’ll need to talk to Virgil later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I am so sorry I haven't updated this story in a while. I was busy with school and my other story. I also had to come home, because it's mid-semester break. Anyway, this has been another addition, I hope you liked it. Also, there's a lot of dialogues in this chapter, let me know if you don't like that.
> 
> See you in the next one!
> 
> ~ AJ


	4. A Talk About Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Logan now had to pay for everything—rent, hospital and college tuition—the Fulgencio brothers had to think of a solution that would be easier on the wallet. Virgil agreed to live in the college dorm to help his brother's financial stability. That was where he met a boisterous, dramatic fellow.

During his last visit to the hospital with Virgil, Logan had a number of concerns. Firstly, he found out that his hypothesis on the cause of his father’s illness was correct. It had been because of stress and not other likely factors. Logan didn’t know what would worry his father a lot. As Logan knew it, Dante loved his job as a policeman. He  _ was _ close to retirement age, but that shouldn’t be any cause of stress. If anything, that’s a cause of celebration. Retirement was something that people have always wanted to embrace as it means that they don’t need to work anymore—or at the very least they don’t need to spend too much time working.

His second concern is money. It may be true that he made good money doing his job as an astronomer, but with the figures in front of him, it became a little bit of a problem. He still needed to pay for both his and Virgil’s rent, as well as Virgil’s college tuition and now he needed to pay the hospital, too. It was a good thing that Logan didn’t have too much debt looming over him, so he only needed to worry about those. He had to come up with a solution or else he won’t be able to survive the next two months.

That weekend, Virgil was coming over to Logan’s to stay. Logan decided to share his worries with his brother. Talking on the phone might not be the best idea and neither of them actually liked talking through the phone. So, a face-to-face conversation is very much favorable.

“Virgil, I have something to talk about with you.” Logan opened the conversation one Friday afternoon. Virgil was sitting on the couch with his laptop. He looked up at Logan as his brother joined him on the couch.

“About what?” Virgil asked briefly before going back to his laptop.

“Well, with father not being able to work anymore, I’m the only who supports all three of us. I still have to pay for my rent, as well as yours, and I have to pay for the hospital. Oh, and your college tuition.”

“Oh… I could live here, if you don’t mind. So, you don’t have to pay for my rent.”

“You could, but I have a cheaper and easier alternative.” Logan started to explain. “However, it will be at the expense of your comfort. If you would prefer to live here, though, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“What’s this alternative?”

“I thought, you could perhaps live in the college dorm. It’s closer for you to go to classes and it’s cheaper than paying rent. If you live here, it would be farther away from your campus. Besides, if you were to live here, I will still have to pay for extra electricity and everything else.”

Virgil pondered on his options for a few minutes. On the one hand, living in the college dorm would be easier for him to got to class and it would be much cheaper, like Logan said. This would help his older brother a lot. Then, at the same time, he would also have to live with a stranger. How would he be able to handle his social anxiety—or really, anxiety in general. What if he had an attack? His dorm-mate would of course be freaked out by it. Everything would become worse, then. He really wasn’t sure about his options. One option favors Logan and the other favors towards himself.

“I’ll take… I’ll take the dorm, Lo.” Virgil finally answered, though his voice came out a little shaky. He still wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want inconvenience Logan further.

“Are you sure, Virgil?”

“I’m like… eighty-seven percent sure.”

“That was a very specific number, but I’ll take it,” Logan answered with a smile. Relief was apparent in his voice. It’s not that he didn’t want his brother to live with him, he just thought that if Virgil were to live in the dorms it would be easier on the wallet. However, he did still have concerns about Virgil’s anxiety. He’ll worry about that later. “Alright then, if you don’t mind, you should move as quickly as possible. How about Wednesday next week?”

 

* * *

Finally, Wednesday came around. The dreadful day. During the weekend and most of Monday and Tuesday, the Fulgencio brothers had packed almost everything in Virgil’s small apartment. Most of them are stored in Logan’s room. About one-fourth of them will be brought to the dorm with Virgil. He wasn’t sure what it was going to be like. Would he like it? Would his roommate hate him? Would they get along? What if they hate each other? Questions were already spilling out of his mind.

“Are you quite alright, Virgil?” Logan’s low voice broke through his thoughts.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

It was a little odd to be moving into a dorm in the middle of the semester, as people usually do that in the beginning. Fortunately, he was not the only one who will be moving into the dorms. There were about fifty other students that were moving in, just like him. So, Virgil didn’t stick out and look weird. He was given the room number on Sunday after Logan called the university.

“Your room would be room ‘three-fifteen B.’ It’s the middle-building of the three dorms.” The lady that was in charge had told them through the phone that day. Now,  _ actually _ standing in front of the room was a little intimidating for Virgil. The swirling thoughts he had came back again.  _ ‘Ah, shit.’ _ He gave the door three quick knocks and waited.

 

* * *

On Monday, the building manager for the university dorm had called Roman. He had been told that he will be getting a new roommate on Wednesday. Roman had looked at it in two ways. On one hand, if he had a roommate, he wouldn’t be so lonely anymore in the dorm. It had always felt odd to have a dorm to himself where there were clearly two beds and two wardrobes and two sets of everything in the room. It was weird to only have one side of the room be used and the other left untouched and bare. Roman always felt empty because of it.

However, it was nice to have the privacy. With him being alone in the room, he could do anything he wanted without fear of judgement or without annoying another person. Plus, it was nice to have the whole space to himself, since it was bigger. He had tried to “spice up” the other side of the dorm with some of his musical posters, but it never looked right. It always felt too empty or too full. So, he took them down. Being alone in the room had been nice at times, but it also meant that it was always too quiet.

When the building manager, Mr. Jensen, had told him about the roommate, Roman was excited.  _ ‘A new friend,’ _ he thought,  _ ‘this would be a lot more interesting.’ _

Now, it was Wednesday afternoon. Roman had been waiting for his roommate to come for hours. He was both excited and worried. What if they didn’t like him? No matter. He would still try to befriend this stranger. He couldn’t help but theorize about what his new roommate would be like. What’s their name? Would they be accepting of him? What kind of person are they? Questions kept popping up in his head as though he was trying to solve a puzzle that hadn’t even been presented to him.

As he was watching a movie—undoubtedly Disney—from his laptop, he heard a soft knock on the door. He knew it was his roommate. “Just a second!” He said loudly to the person waiting outside. He scramble off his bed, fixing said bed a little bit and rushed to the small mirror on his desk and made sure that he looked presentable. One should look proper—and preferably stunning—when meeting new acquaintances. Taking a deep breath and making sure his posture looked good, he opened the door with a booming greeting.

“Greetings! Welcome to this slice of heaven!”

“Wow…” The stranger deadpanned upon hearing his extravagant greeting. Well, that was unexpected. There was another man behind the stranger holding a box that looked quite heavy. Ignoring the unimpressed look the stranger, who was presumably  _ the _ roommate, gave him, he paid more attention to the other man.

“Need help with that box?” The man gratefully nodded as Roman took the box into his hands, lifting it up with ease. 

“I have to leave now, I have some work to do.” The man gave a small nod to Roman, to which he responded by nodding back, then clapping the roommate’s back and quickly left.

“The name’s Roman. Roman Armenteros.” He introduced himself with a smile. He didn’t seemed to be fazed by the odd appearance of this new roommate of his. He looked dark, almost gothic, but not quite. He was also quite thin. His small body was framed by a thick, plain-black hoodie.  _ ‘At least, he doesn’t have the classic emo hairstyle.’ _ Roman thought.

“Virgil Fulgencio. That was Logan, my brother.” Virgil responded with a two-fingered salute, sitting on the bare bed after putting his backpack on the empty desk-chair. They stayed in silence for a few awkward seconds before Virgil spoke up again. “So, are you like a failed Disney prince project?” His eyes immediately widened after saying those words.  _ ‘Holy shit, Virge. What the fuck did you just say?’ _

Roman only chuckled, his eyes bright. “Then, I do look like a prince, if I’d say so myself.” He said with a raised brow.

_ ‘Seriously?’ _ Virgil thought modesty would look good on anyone. This guy, though, was another level. How big is his ego? He stared at Roman for a little while, wondering how big his head could get. Then, he stopped his train of thought. He didn’t want to judge a person when he only just met them. He didn’t know enough about this person to actually judge them.

“Aight, Princey. Whatever you say.”

“Nicknames, huh. Alright then, Dark and Dreary.”

Virgil could only rolled his eyes. He moved towards the big box that Logan had been carrying and started to slowly unpack. His brother told him that there will be another box delivered into the dorm in a few days. Sneaking a glance at Roman who had gone back to his laptop, he inspected his roommate. Roman was undeniably good looking. He stood tall with his broad shoulders pulled back and he held his chin high and straight. Even in a sitting position like this, Virgil could see the perfect posture that the guy has. His jawline was so defined and his pink lips were full, but not too dramatic. His golden brown hair looked almost glowing. If Virgil had to say, this person was probably the hottest person he’d ever met.

Roman caught the emo boy staring and gave him a smug smirk. “Take a picture, Emo Nightmare. It lasts longer.” He turned back to his laptop, the smirk never leaving his face. Virgil immediately dropped his eyes and his cheeks felt warmer. He huffed angrily at himself for getting caught. Why did he even stare in the first place? He finished unpacking his belongings quickly, seeing that there weren’t too many things in the box. He sat on the bed again, wanting to slip into his own world with his music and his phone. Roman, though, had another idea.

“What major are you?” Roman asked once Virgil slipped under the thick blanket that he brought from his apartment.

“You don’t need to know.” Virgil answered briefly, eyes still fixed on his phone. What’s this big idiot doing? No one ever wanted to talk to Virgil.

“Aw, come on! I’ll tell you mine, then. I’m a theater major. I want to be an actor.”

“I don’t care.”

Roman didn’t really understand why Virgil was rude, but it didn’t deter him. If anything, it made him more curious about this boy. Why is he so closed off and dark? Why did he just move to the dorm now and not in the beginning of the year or semester? Roman have always liked mysteries, especially if he got to solve them. He knew this one might not be easy, but he was willing to take on that challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This had been another installment to the story. I am very sorry that I don't update this story very often, because I am currently busy with school and my other story (also a Sanders Sides). I will try to update more frequently, but I will make no promises. Thank you so much for reading. Leave a kudos and maybe a comment, I would like to know what you think of the story so far.
> 
> I'M SORRY THIS ONE IS AWFULLY SHORT, I'LL TRY BETTER IN THE NEXT ONE!


	5. Something Hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing that his father's illness was caused by stress, Virgil was on a mission to investigate. However, Dante was not cooperating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!!! I am sorry it has been so so long. Here is the new chapter that you've been waiting for for more than a month.

It’s Thursday. Usually, Thursday meant a boring day. Virgil would go to Logan’s and do his assignments—if there were any—while he waits for Logan to get back from his work. Then, it would probably be a couple hours of watching crappy movies with his brother or they would do their own things separately. So, nothing special. The last two weeks, however, had been a little different.

“Hey, dad,” Virgil threw his backpack on the floor next to the hospital bed where Dante sat, leaning against a stack of pillows. “How you doin’?”

“I’ve been better…”

“Hmm, Logan told me the cause of your—your disease…”

“It’s cancer Virgil, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Yeah, that. Logan told me it was because of stress.”

Dante knew what was about to come. He knew his youngest son had always been a worrier. He knew Virgil would ask him questions that he wouldn’t have answers to. Doctor Corwin—he thought the doctor’s name was—had also told him that the most likely cause of his illness is stress. He didn’t really understand _what_ kind of stress and how it got bad enough to cause a disease as serious as cancer. Dante knew he wouldn’t be able to answer Virgil’s questions, but he didn’t want to disappoint his son, so he had to try his best. At the same time, he’d rather not talk about any of this.

At least he’s going to see his wife again soon. Estella was his whole world. Her name meant ‘star’ and true to her name that she was like a star shining bright in Dante’s darkest times. It’s been eight years, but he still remembered everything they used to share. When they had their first child, Logan, they were so elated. Tella had shine so bright the first time she saw Logan. Then, six years later, came Virgil. The couple was as blissful as they could have been. They were the happiest little family.

Their happiness was tarnished on one fateful night. He should have known something was happening. He should have _felt_ it. She had called him that night, telling him that she would be home late. And when Tella’s office burned, Dante was out in the backyard laughing with his sons and grilling hot dogs. When Tella’s office went up in smokes, Dante was tucking their little Virgil to bed with a smile. When Tella suffocated to death, Dante was watching the television, waiting for her to come home. She never did.

He sighed. The beeping noise of the heart monitor in the hospital room brought him back to reality. Virgil. Virgil was still there.

“Stress?” Dante tried to play dumb.

“Dad, please. Talk to me about it. I don’t want you to—please, don’t forget that you have us. You have me and you have Logan.” Virgil rested his hands on the bed as he lowered himself to sit on the chair next to the bed. “And don’t tell me it doesn’t bother you, because it does. It clearly does bother you to the point that you’re sick!”

Tears were starting to gather in his eyes as they grew hotter and hotter. There were so many things he had not done and there were so many things he still had to say. He didn’t want his dad to go. Not now, not ever. The whole situation was starting to finally sink in as Virgil accepted the fact that his father was _dying._

“Virge,” Dante called gently, prompting his son to look up at him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, dad. It’s not okay, because you’re here. You’re sick, for God’s sake.” Virgil’s voice was surprisingly steady considering the waterfalls of tears streaming down his cheeks. “Why don’t you ever talk to us?”

“I don’t know how to answer your question, Virgil. I don’t know what problems I have that’s big enough to cause cancer. I didn’t think anything was too bad, so I never talk to you or Logan.” Dante answered with a gentle voice. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems, so I’m sorry that I have to call in that favor now.”

“Dad, no! It’s fine!”

Virgil didn’t really know why he was crying. Deep down, he knew why, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He was scared about many things. He didn’t want to lose his father. When he lost his mom eight years ago, his brother had shut everyone out. He kept to himself and distracted himself with his school work. His dad had been so devastated that Dante didn’t speak for almost two weeks. An eleven year old Virgil was left to grieve alone. Virgil didn’t want that to happen again if Dante was gone.

He swore he’s going to get the bottom of this problem, and he was going to fix it. That way, his dad could hopefully recover and maybe—just maybe—their little family could go back to how it used to be before his mom died. Back then, they were so happy. They were whole and everything was enough.

Logan was _not_ a stoic boy who’s seemingly emotionless. Virgil remembered when he was nine, a fifteen year old Logan would talk to him about space. They would go to the roof at night without their parents knowing and stargaze with Logan’s crappy telescope. His mom was not the best cook, but she tried. When the food turn out bad, they would laugh about it and his dad would cook instead. Dante made the best pasta in the world, since he grew up in an Italian household.

Logan had always been closer to their mom. They were thoughtful people, choosing to observe and analyze in silence. Virgil was like the baby version of Dante. They were both mischievous, always causing trouble and they made the house hum with life. Virgil still remembered the time when he and his dad put a bucket of slime on Logan’s door. His brother ended up running around the house with gooey blue slime all over his hair and clothes. He ended up dirtying the house with slime everywhere. Mama Tella was furious and she made all three of them clean up the house.

Virgil missed those days when life was much simpler. He missed the times when his biggest worries everyday was ‘what time are mom and dad gonna get home tonight?’ He missed everything. He missed his mom, he missed Logan and he missed his dad. But he knew that it was impossible to get everything he had back.

A warm, skinny hand wrapped around his, pulling him back from his thoughts. He held Dante’s hand in return. He knew that his dad was hiding something, but there was nothing he could do that would make Dante talk to him about any of it. For now, he got to spend time with his dad alone until Logan come tonight.

“Promise me, that you’ll talk to us when anything bothers you, dad,” Virgil sniffed, wiping the tears off his face.

Dante huffed a long sigh. “Okay, I will.”

A beat of silence followed Dante’s answer. _‘Will he promise for real? Will he lie again, saying that everything’s okay when things are_ clearly _not okay?’_ Virgil thought and immediately shoved it away. He didn’t need to think about that now.

“Remember that time when you tricked me into eating a garlic, saying that it’s white chocolate?” Virgil changed the topic into a lighthearted topic. “It was _awful._ That was really mean.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember that. You were so gullible. I mean, it’s not like I had fun.” Dante said with a sly smirk. Virgil loved seeing that shine back in his dad’s eyes, even if it only lasted for a moment.

“I was six!”

And the sound of laughter rang in the room, filling it with a rare jewel of joy.

 

* * *

 

Virgil walked towards his dorm room reluctantly. It was already quite late and he had tried to persuade his dad to let him stay in the hospital. Dante, of course, disagreed. He tried to enjoy the rest of his walk, listening to the chirp of crickets and the gentle night breeze making his hair dance in the wind. Virgil had always liked the night. It’s peaceful and he could whatever he wanted without being judged. Well, it used to be like that. Now, he had to share a small space with a roommate, so he no longer had the same amount of privacy.

It was really awkward for Virgil to share a room with someone that he barely knew. In his opinion, Roman was too cheerful, boisterous and dramatic. To him, Roman was a little overly friendly. It’s not creepy, if Virgil had to say so himself. He was just not used to being treated like he was a decent human being. Everyone—other than his family—always saw him as a weird and antisocial emo kid.

He tried to walk as slowly as he possibly could, dragging his feet on the sandy pavement. Twenty minutes later, he was standing in front of his dorm room. Come to think of it again, maybe there was nothing wrong with trying to be nice to Roman. Perhaps, he could have a chance of making a friend for once in his life. He just hope he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Virgil fumbled with his key for a few seconds and unlocked the door slowly. He was hoping that Roman would be out, so that he didn’t have to deal with that dramatic roommate of his. But of course, the universe had other plans. Stepping into the room, he saw Roman looking a little disheveled. Strands of his usually-perfect hair was sticking up everywhere after he ran his hand through it numerous times and his forehead was creased as his face twist into a frown.

“Woah, dude. You okay?”

Roman, who was sitting on the floor wrapped in a mountain of blankets, jumped slightly when he heard Virgil’s voice, seeming to be unaware of Virgil's presence. His face immediately brighten. “Oh, hey Virgil! Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Didn’t seem like it.”

“Really, I’m okay. Why are you suddenly talking to me, Doom and Gloom?” There was genuine curiosity underneath his words.

“I don’t know. So, tell me; what’s up?”

“My brother came.” Roman answered briefly, untangling himself from the blankets and throwing himself—and the blankets—onto his bed, pulling the blankets over his body. Virgil thought he looked undeniably adorable with only his head sticking up from under the pile of fabric.

“Didn’t know you have a brother.”

“No one does.”

Roman didn’t really want to talk about his brother. His relationship with his younger brother was… difficult… to say the least. They had a tough history. Roman used to get along with Remy and it never really matter what Remy think of him, he still and always will love his baby brother. But now, everything’s different. He didn’t like thinking or talking about it even though he knew he should. It was just difficult to get through his brother.

Right now, Roman was not in the mood for talking. He flipped his body to face the wall and closed his eyes, trying to sleep and forget about everything. At least for now. He knew that all of this wasn’t Remy’s fault. None of it was. He had tried so hard to help his brother, but all he got in return was anger thrown at him. And again, he knew he shouldn’t blame Remy for that, but he couldn’t help but feel hurt by all of that.

Virgil didn’t know what to say or do. He knew next to nothing about Roman, let alone his brother. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing or do anything stupid, so he left Roman alone with his thoughts. Virgil changed into his pajamas in the bathroom and wiped his makeup off. He stared at the mirror, diving deep into his own thoughts. What would happen now? How was he ever going to find whatever it was that made his dad sick?

_‘What’s going on with dad? What happened to us that made us so… foreign to each other? I wish mom was still here, then she would be able to talk to Logan and she would be able to make dad happy. Please, please, let dad be okay. I don’t want him to go.’_

He repeated the thought in his head like a prayer.

 

_‘Let him be okay.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have reached the end of this chapter! I'm so sorry that this chapter is so short, but I promise the next one will be longer and I will try my best to publish the next one this Saturday. So, this one has a lot of flashbacks, so I hope you guys can learn more about the Fulgencios. I haven't forgotten Patton and Roman, so don't worry, they will make an appearance in the chapters after this one.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this addition and thank you for reading! See you in the next one!
> 
> ~ AJ


	6. An Interesting Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Remy doesn't have the best relationship in the world.  
> Logan and Virgil went back to their childhood home and found something interesting.

Remy was confused. In fact, he was many things. He was angry, he was sad, he was a fuck up, he was messed up and he was… broken. He didn’t know what he felt half the time. There were times when he felt like nothing means anything to him anymore and the people around him just avoid him. He used to have a lot of friends. He used to think of the future to be the times when he will shine and for him to show the world who he was. Now, it was all gone. His friends left him and his future looked bleak. He was alone and cold.

This is how it felt. Imagine you’re a cook. You _love_ what you do, but one day something happened that made you unable to taste your own work. Your whole world was crumbling and there was this spiral of desperation and hopelessness that eat at you. You tried everything; using more seasonings or maybe eating the things you used to love. But everything, at best, just taste like mashed potatoes.

Remy wanted so badly to fix everything. He missed feeling alive. He missed feeling like he could conquer the world. But he didn’t know how. The only person that was still standing to help him was Roman. And to him, Roman was an amazing person who’s always there for him no matter the case or the time. Yet, the only thing that he ever give to Roman was anger and wrath. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for all of it.

Last night was rather messy. He came to his brother’s dorm and Roman, of course, didn’t mind at all. Remy just needed to talk to someone about everything and he was tired. Remembering that night again, he felt an unbearable shame and he realized how exhausting it was to be angry all the time.

 

* * *

 

“You need anything, Rem?” Roman asked after he let his brother into the room. Remy shook his head, flinging himself onto Roman’s bed. Everything smelled like Roman which brought him much needed comfort. It was nice. “You sure, baby brother?”

“Don’t call me that,” Remy said monotonously. Roman ignored his comment.

For hours, they stayed in silence in the room. Fortunately, the bed is _just_ wide enough to fit two people, so Roman could sit next to his brother with his back resting on the headboard and a laptop on his lap. If he moved just a fraction, he would have fallen from the bed. Remy was lying on the bed next to the wall, tucking himself close to the wall, as if he wanted to disappear. Roman continued to watch the movie on his laptop.

As the hours tick by, Remy came out of his hiding from under the blanket and scooted closer to his brother. He remembered when they were small, Roman would carry him on his back and they would run around in the backyard. Roman would always shout nonsense, saying _“I’ll protect you, baby bro!”_ and they would laugh. Remy used to love that nickname, but now it only made him feel weak.

Roman felt Remy’s head pushing at his thigh and he instinctively reached down to play with Remy’s hair. The Armenteros brothers were alike. They were both loud and dramatic, and they loved each other. But now, their relationship is somewhat broken—Roman preferred to call it turbulent instead of broken. They still loved each other very much, but they have forgotten how to remind each other of their affection and care. Every time they speak, there was always an argument or misunderstanding.

“So, why are you here?” Roman asked after a few hours of silence.

“I’m so done with everything, I’m tired and I just want everything to fucking _stop,_ ” Remy started his rant. This might last for a while. “I can’t feel anything anymore and I’m so sick of trying again and again when nothing helps. Wouldn’t you think it’s easier for _everyone_ if I wasn’t here? You wouldn’t be burdened by a hell of a brother like me and I wouldn’t be messing up your life. Also, it’s—”

“Hey, listen here King Snoozer, y’need to calm down.”

“Calm down?! _Girl,_ have you, in your entire life, see a person _calm the fuck down_ when they’re told to calm down?” Remy finally snapped. He’d been holding this in for weeks and he couldn’t handle it anymore. “Why do people always say that like it helps?!”

“What? I just wanted to help you. You need to calm down to think clearly.”

“Well, I’m tired of thinking, so let’s not do that,” Remy said sternly with a spark of anger that irritated Roman.

“Why are you always like this? Whenever I wanted to talk to you, you just get really cranky. You think it’s hard on you? Yeah, what do you think it feels like when all _I_ ever get is _your anger?_ It’s just as tiring, Rem!”

“ _Yeesh,_ why can’t you just understand—”

“It’s not _easy_ to understand!”

“You know what, I’m just gonna go.” Remy finally said, picking up his messenger bag from the floor and swiftly opened the door. “Bye.”

And with that, the door closed with a surprisingly gentle click.

Roman wanted to stop Remy from walking away, but not a sound escaped from his lips. He was _so_ confused about whatever it was that’s happening to Remy. He wanted so desperately to help, but he didn’t how to do that. He wished he could say the things that Remy wanted to hear, if only he knew what that was. In truth, he missed his baby brother, but he couldn’t reach out to him. Now, all he could do was wait for the rock-hard ice to melt. It wouldn’t matter how long it takes, Roman will be there when his brother’s heart thaws.

 

* * *

 

Logan was still thinking about what the doctor told him last week. Patton Corwin, the doctor, had told him that the most likely cause of his father’s illness is stress. What kind of stress, though? It could, perhaps, stress that accumulates since his father was young. But Logan knew next to nothing about his father’s childhood. It might also be the stress that was triggered when he lost Estella. Logan remembered his mother to be someone who was very thoughtful and observant. He always thought that his mother was one of the very few people that could understand him completely. He missed her. But now is not the time to think about that.

Thinking again, he might know where to find the answer to his questions. His childhood home might be the best place to start. There, Dante had started a new life after he left his parents’ home. Maybe, if he could find something there, he could finally get some answers. He should probably tell Virgil about it, too.

That evening, Logan came to Virgil’s dorm, hoping to find his brother there. He knocked on the door, alerting the people inside of his presence. There was no answer, so he tried again. After a few seconds, he heard a shuffling sound before the door cracked open. Virgil’s roommate peeked his head over the door and smiled brightly.

“Ah, it’s you!” He exclaimed and turned his head to speak to another person inside. “Virgil, it’s your brother.”

A grumble was heard before Virgil came, shoving his roommate away and regarded Logan with tired eyes. “What happened? Is it dad again?”

“Well, yes and no… So, I thought that perhaps we could—” Before he could finish his sentence, Virgil dragged him inside. Pointing at the desk chair next to his bed, he silently told Logan to sit while he walked back to his bed.

“Come again?”

“I said, we could perhaps go back to our childhood home.”

“And do what?”

“We could find some clues that may help father.”

Roman was observing this bizarre interaction from his seat on his bed. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop or to listen in on the conversation, but it was happening in front of him, so he had no other choice than to listen. And Roman, being the curious little shit that he was, _stared_ at the two figures sitting in front of him. Logan and Virgil, thankfully, didn’t notice him.

“What do you mean, Lo? What are we even looking for?”

“I’m not sure, but we might find something interesting.”

“We basically lived there for our entire life. What are these _things_ that could possibly escape my sight?” Virgil huffed in confusion with furrowed brows. It _was_ an interesting idea that they might find _something,_ but if they don’t even know what they were looking for, how were they ever going to find it?

There was a beat of silence that hung in the air. Suddenly Roman felt very aware of his presence in the room and he felt like he was intruding the serious moment that Virgil was having with his brother. He wanted to hide himself, but he didn’t want to make himself appear stupid. So, he went to reading the book that he was reading before Virgil's brother came—Logan was his name, if he wasn't mistaken. However, he couldn’t focus on the book as he continued to stare at the two brothers in front of him.

_‘What am I gonna do now?’_

Suddenly, Logan spoke up again. “We should go now if we want to actually find something.”

“Okay.” Virgil took his small backpack from his desk and opened the door, letting Logan out first. He gave his roommate a two-fingered salute and went out, shutting the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

The house was, as expected, empty. There was still a subtle smell of coffee that lingered in the house, but it was masked by the smell of dust. Living alone must have been exhausting for Dante. The house must have felt humongous for just one person. The claws of guilt was back in Virgil’s stomach, scratching and pounding, waiting to be acknowledged. He should have visited his dad more often. Now, it was no use thinking about that.

Logan went up the stairs without a word. He entered his old bedroom, plastered with dark blue wallpaper and the ceiling was painted with the milky way galaxy. The bed was situated in the middle and his closet was in the opposite corner. His old desk sat next to the bed, looking as good as ever. Logan didn’t remember his room to be this small. He imagined his younger self occupying the room, reading about space and played with the crappy telescope that he owned. The bed and the desk was clean of mess, but the walls were still the same. There were star charts and diagrams on the wall opposite the bed, as well as a clutter of space-themed posters. Under the mess of posters, there was a long table where his planet models sat collecting dust.

Virgil walked into Logan's bedroom, finding his brother who was looking at everything in the room with a silent awe and longing. Logan didn’t realize he missed this.

Virgil walked out of the room, scouring the house for anything interesting. He decided the master bedroom would be a good place to start. The bed was on the right side of the wall, the sheets clean if a little bit messy. Looks like dad didn’t make the bed before he went to the hospital two weeks ago. A big closet stood in one corner of the room. Next to it was a door leading to the private bathroom. The floor was covered in a gigantic soft carpet. Mom had chosen this rug all those years ago and the softness of it never dulled. One wall was covered with a window and many, many frames of photographs on the opposite wall.

Virgil heard a series of soft thumps. Logan must have gone downstairs. He continued to look around the room, his eyes lingering on the frames on the wall from time to time. He opened the closet and looked through the drawers. Nothing interesting there. Then, he noticed something _odd._ There was a small opening at the top of the cupboard which looked like a small door. He reached up, standing on his toes for added height and eased the small door open. He went downstairs to tell Logan about his finding.

“Logan! I found something in dad’s room!” He shouted from the stairs, hoping Logan would hear him.

“I was in the kitchen,” Logan said coolly. “You didn’t have to shout.”

“Bring a chair upstairs. There’s something in dad’s closet.”

Logan brought the desk chair from his room and propped it in front of the tall closet, under the small door that Virgil found earlier. He hopped on the chair and peered inside. It was empty. Empty, except for the black leather box. He pulled the box from the depth of its hiding place, finally realizing that it was bigger than he had expected. He gingerly took the box into his arms and passed it to his brother.

Virgil set the box on the floor with a sigh. The box was quite big and heavy. Looking closer, it was in fact dark brown instead of black. The box opened like a chest, having the lid attached the box itself. The interior of the box was lined with dark, soft velvet. There were a number of thick photo albums and a tape recorder. The tape recorder in particular was rather peculiar. On it was a label that read _'mother'_ from masking tape. This certainly was an interesting find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello wonderful readers! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think will happen next.
> 
> See you in the next one!
> 
> ~ AJ


	7. Puzzling Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil inspected the albums that he and Logan found in the mystery box they discovered. And, Virgil finally met Remy, thought the circumstance was rather unfortunate.  
> At the same time, Logan was getting increasingly worry and he had yet to investigate the tape recorder he found.  
> Patton noticed Logan's weariness and tried to offer some assistance.

Photo albums. The albums were, to say the least, interesting. They were thick, overflowing with pictures and photographs. So much so that they looked somehow bloated with all the things stored inside. Not all of the contents were photographs, but some paintings, too. Small paintings the size of business cards done in watercolor. Most of them have dark themes; the painting of a black rose that was dripping blood; or another one of a little boy engulfed in fire—the eyes of the boy however, showed no emotions as if immune to the pain.

Virgil didn’t know what to make of the album. He shifted his attention from the little paintings to the photographs. As expected, there were a few pictures of Dante when he was young. There were faint writings at the back of the photographs, showing the date of when each picture was taken. One picture was of Dante, standing in an airstrip while looking at a small airplane. The date showed that it was taken thirty-one years ago when Dante was twenty-four years old.

That particular picture reminded Virgil of his childhood. A few months after his mom passed away, Dante would take him and Logan to the airstrip nearby their neighborhood. His dad would take him and his brother to the hangars, looking at the old airplanes inside. Dad always said that he was there to fly one of the small planes or do some fixing on one of them. Though, out of the dozens of times they visited the airstrip, Dante only ever flew the planes three or four times. He would usually get caught up, chatting with one of his friends there. And so it was, their four-hour-visits would often became a seven-hour-visit.

The boys were often annoyed with their father. Logan especially. They would get bored and sneak back to the parking lot to wait in the car. Now, eight years later, Virgil regretted ever avoiding his dad when he only wanted to bond with his children.

In the box that he and Logan found last week there were three albums, a tape recorder and a small collection of fourteen daggers. Logan had taken the tape recorder and the daggers—not before Virgil took one of them with him; the one with a purple dragon carved on its hilt. Virgil had taken all three albums with him to inspect. He didn’t know who made all the little paintings or what they meant. He’ll tell Logan about that later.

As he continued to flip through the album to find anything interesting, he heard a knock at the door. Virgil looked up, staring at the door and waiting for it to open. Instead, he heard another knock. _‘Doesn’t Roman have his own key?’_ He got up from the bed and opened the door with bleary eyes.

“Did you lose your keys, Pri—oh, who are you?” Virgil was taken aback by the young man standing in front of him. He was wearing a dark brown leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses covered half his face. Who the hell wears sunglasses in this hour, _indoor?_ The longer he looked at the young man, the more Virgil noticed the striking resemblance he had with Roman. “Are you Roman’s brother?”

“He’s not here?”

“No,”

The stranger sighed as his whole posture deflated. “Kay then, _girl._ Imma just leave.” He turned back into the hallway and walked away, trailing his feet behind him.

“Wait!” Virgil exclaimed, gaining the attention of the stranger. “Roman usually comes back at eight thirty. It’s eight now, so you can wait here if you want.” Virgil scolded himself internally. Why had he done that? He didn’t _like_ strangers. He wanted to be alone right now, so why did he offer the stranger to come inside?

“M’kay… you sure?” the stranger asked a little hesitantly. Virgil nodded in response, opening the door wider for the stranger to walk in.

“What’s your name?” Virgil asked cautiously. He wasn’t usually kind to unfamiliar people, but since he _invited_ the young man inside, being nice was the least he could do. The stranger had plopped himself on Roman’s bed and concealing himself in Roman’s plush blankets with sunglasses still in place on his face. Virgil followed him inside, sitting in his own bed and closing the albums for later inspection.

“Remegio Armenteros. Remy for short.”

“Virgil. Um, Virgil Fulgencio.”

An uncomfortable silence followed their introduction. Virgil chose to occupy himself with his phone as Remy did the same. Remy kicked his shoes off from the bed, causing them to fall next to the bed and tucked himself deeper into the blanket. He was shaking slightly, his hands trembling and his lips were pressed into a thin line. After a few minutes, Remy shut his phone off, choosing to pay attention to his brother’s gothic roommate.

“Roman’s never really talked about his roommate before,” Remy opened a conversation.

Virgil huffed a small chuckle with a smirk. “I didn’t expect him to ever talk about me. We don’t get along. Never really talked to him either—well, _I_ don’t talk much; but he talks a lot.”

“Hm, _does_ he, _hun._ Tell me ‘bout it. He never shuts his mouth,” Remy said with a flamboyant wave of his hand. “Tell me ‘bout yourself.”

“Nothing much,” Virgil hesitantly said. He didn’t really want a stranger to know anything about him, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “I’m nineteen. I major in film—please, don’t tell Roman—and I have a brother. His name’s Logan and he’s six years older than me.” Once more, he cursed himself for telling Remy about Logan. Did he never learn anything about _stranger danger?_

“You’re nineteen? Same, then,” Remy said, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. His hand still trembled slightly. If Virgil noticed, he wouldn't mention it.

“Huh… I thought Roman was the same age as me? Are you guys twins?”

“Nah, he’s twenty-one. He’s in his third year of college right now.”

“I thought we’re all put in a dorm with people from the same year…”

“Dunno ‘bout that, _girl._ I don’t study at _this_ college.”

Their brief conversation was followed by another silence, albeit a little less awkward than before. Remy laid down on the bed, facing away from Virgil to stare at the wall. He finally took his sunglasses off, setting them next to the pillow. The shiver of his body became worse, as if a coldness was consuming him.

 _‘Hang on. Hang on,_ girl. _Y’got this. Roman’s gonna be here anytime now, don’t break down. Roman, please come quick.’_

He tried to hold himself together as he continued to shake on the bed, trying to keep everything in and not burst into tears in front of Virgil. He curled tighter, not making a sound with hands gripping on the pillow. The next few minutes went by in what felt like hours to Remy. _Hopeless._ Everything seemed hopeless to him. He couldn’t finish any of his assignments and he failed in one of his tests two days ago—which class, he didn’t bother to even remember. The few friends he had left him, because he was “too clingy” or “always so angry.” He didn’t understand what was happening around him, and it felt like everything was falling apart.

The most pathetic part was that his problems seemed _so small._ All his problem was the fact that he didn’t have any motivation to do anything, and he’s constantly angry and irritated. He’s constantly stressed for no reason and all of this affected his academics. His irritability had cost him his friends. He didn’t want to lose Roman, too. Another thing was, he didn’t know why he felt utterly miserable all the time. Like a massive weight was thrown at him and he fell flat on his back because of it. And with the weight on his chest, he wasn’t capable of getting back up. Remy knew that there were people out there who are suffering with _real_ problems; domestic abuse, neglectful parents, deadly diseases, _et cetera._ He knew! He knew, and that’s why he couldn’t help but feel bad that he’s moping over such a petty problem.

Just then, the door clicked open. Remy was too caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice.

Upon entering the room, Roman noticed how Virgil looked unusually at ease. His roommate was observing a small card carefully. The second thing he noticed was the shoes that was thrown haphazardly next to his bed. Remy’s shoes. His gaze drifted up to the curled figure on the bed. Remy’s head was hidden under Roman’s thick blankets—only some strands of his chocolate locks were visible. Virgil looked up from the card he was holding, giving Roman a nod of acknowledgement and went back to observing the card.

He crossed the room to his bed, resting a hand on the lump of blankets. Remy was shaking under his hold.

“Rem?”

Remy jolted up on the bed, eyes meeting Roman’s. The urge to cry was suddenly too overwhelming for him to handle and he ultimately allow the dam break. He threw himself onto his brother’s chest, burying his face in Roman’s chest as he let out a series of sobs. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He didn’t understand what he was feeling. He only wanted everything to be over.

“Hey, what’s wrong, bud?” Roman asked his brother gently, wounding one arm around Remy’s back and wrapping the other arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m here, you’re okay.”

Remy shook his head against Roman’s chest. He gripped Roman’s shirt tightly as he continued to sob, getting louder by each passing moments. Roman could only held Remy in his arms tightly as he listened to his brother break.

 

* * *

 

The beeping of the heart monitor was constant and steady. It was nearly ten p.m. Logan didn’t want to go back to his apartment. There were so many things that he needed to ask his father—many of which he didn’t know how to. What was in the tape? Why was it hidden? Was it alright if he told his father about his finding? At the end, Logan chose to not talk about the box and the mystery items inside. He didn’t want his father to interrupt their investigation by forbidding them to inspect those items.

“Father, are you certain you’re alright if I leave?” Logan asked after Dante asked him to leave. It was getting late after all.

“I’ve been alone in this room so many times, don’t even worry,” Dante reassured his son. “Are you coming again tomorrow? Why doesn’t the hospital just let me go home?”

“You heard what the doctor said yesterday. Although many cases of cancer patients are allowed to get treatment from home, your condition is different. Your condition is worse than what the doctors initially expected, father. I—I know you don’t like it here…” Logan trailed off, clasping his arms behind his back as he stared at the heart monitor. “I don’t want you here either, but there’s no other choice. We don’t want you suffering complications at home. It’s more prudent for you to stay here.”

Dante let out a deep sigh. He knew, of course, why he wasn’t allowed to return home. He didn’t tell his children that he had vomited blood only four days ago. They didn’t need to worry about him too much. All Dante wanted was to go back home, away from all the sickening clinical white that had surrounded him for a month. He would rather die at home, even if it meant he would die sooner without all the medical help. He thought there was no use in prolonging the inevitable. Dante wasn’t blind to the reality that he didn’t have much long to live.

“Okay, okay. Now, go. You have work tomorrow, don’t you?”

Logan nodded and opened the door slowly. “Goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Logan closed the door behind him with a click. Standing in the familiar hallway of the hospital made him feel sick. Only now did his brain registered the fact that the hospital was _familiar_ to him. He’d come here so often and would come here again tomorrow and the following day and the next. He looked back at the closed door behind him, wanting to come inside and just stay there till morning comes. There was so much time lost ever since the death of his mother. A gaping distance between him and his father left him feeling empty despite still having Virgil as his constant. It’s just wasn’t the same.

He recalled how Virgil used to be genuinely enthusiastic about everything. How his little brother would run around the garden, shouting about every trivial thing he found intriguing. _“Look, Logan, I found a little bug!”_ Or sometimes, when their mother returned home early from her work, Virgil would bounce with excitement. His laughter would ring through the house that Logan couldn’t help but smile.

Even more, Logan remembered _himself._ He wasn’t the ever-so-stoic man back then, but an ever-so-curious young boy who always buzz with questions and he was just as child-like as his little brother. He would ramble about space to little Virgil and sometimes to his parents, too. Everything was good until his mother was taken away from the world.

“Are you okay, Mr. Fulgencio?” A familiar voice broke through his thoughts. Looking up, he saw Doctor Corwin looking at him with a kind gaze. Logan dragged his hand over his hair while his other hand gripped his briefcase tighter. “Anything I can help you with?”

“I’m quite alright, doctor. I apologize, I didn’t mean to stand in the middle of the hallway.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You weren’t bothering anyone anyway,” the doctor smiled with friendly shine in his eyes. “You seem to be bothered with something.”

“Well, you see, my father is sick,” Logan answered sarcastically. He didn’t mean to be rude, but all the stress that he carried had worn down his thoughts that night.

Patton wasn’t surprised by the sudden hostility of Mr. Fulgencio’s words. He’d felt the need to comfort his patients in times of difficulties throughout the years of his careers. However, unlike most doctors, Patton didn’t forget that the families of his patients carried just as much weight as the ill patients. In the past, he befriended the families of his patients and so, he created his own circle of friends around him. Logan and his brother, however, seemed to be very distant with everyone around them—even with their father.

“Are you heading out now?” The doctor asked again gently.

“Yes,” Logan started to pace away to exit the building. Patton followed him, falling into step next to him.

“Hey, um… I know it’s not very professional, but would you like to—to get something from the canteen?” Patton stammered, shifting under Logan’s intense gaze. “I mean, you look like you need it, but it’s okay if you don’t want to. Just wanted to help…”

Logan looked down at his watch. _21:57._ It was quite late, and he had work the next day. Though, there was something about the kind doctor that put Logan’s mind at ease. He sighed. Knowing he didn’t want to go home in the first place, he agreed to the doctor’s offer, although a little hesitantly.

“I supposed it was not a bad idea,” Logan finally replied the doctor. “Lead the way, doctor.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

Virgil heard Roman’s deep voice in between Remy’s sobs. He felt like he was intruding the intimate-and-brotherly moment that was happening in front of him. Remy had so suddenly burst and flung himself onto Roman that Virgil didn’t how to respond other than pressing against the wall next to his bed. He thought he should perhaps go. However, if he left the bed, there was a big chance that Roman would notice him and it would be even more awkward. Maybe he could help somehow. Maybe he could _try_ doing something and not screw it up for once.

“I don’t—I’m sorry…” Remy sobbed, his voice wavered and uneven. “I was just—I tried _so hard,_ but it didn’t work.” He was interrupted by yet another extensive series of sobs. “They always tell me that—that I’m not—not trying hard enough, but I did!”

Roman sat on the bed, pulling his brother closer. His eyes finally met Virgil who was looking at him and his brother with a look of surprise and… concern? He looked down at Remy again, still mumbling and sobbing against his chest. He looked up at Virgil again, mouthing, “can you get water?”

Virgil shook his head in confusion, not understanding Roman. Roman then nodded at his bag that was sitting by his foot on the floor. Virgil took the bag and reached inside, looking for what Roman wanted. Gum? No. Pens? Of course not, that doesn’t make sense. Ah, water? Roman nodded, silently thanking Virgil as he took the bottle of water.

Roman pulled back, carefully prying Remy’s hand off of his shirt. Remy was still sobbing, covering his mouth with his hands. Roman once again pried his brother’s hands away from his face and thrusted the water bottle into his hand.

“Drink this for me,” he told Remy briefly, his tone wasn’t demanding but requesting. Once he downed half the bottle, Remy set the bottle aside and concealed his face on Roman’s chest again. He wasn’t crying anymore, but the violent hiccups that shook his body kept him from speaking. Roman wrapped his brother in his tender embrace once more and set his head on Remy’s.

“What happened, baby bro?” He rubbed a soothing motion on Remy’s back, hoping it would calm his brother down. “Who hurt you?” He was met with silence, but Roman didn’t mind. As long as he could be there for his brother, everything would be okay. It might not seem like it at the moment, but it will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, lovely readers. So, I haven't updated this in a while and I'm sorry. I think the update for this fic would be slower as I'm still focusing on my other fic, but don't worry! I'll still upload new chapters, albeit every two or three weeks instead of every week. Anyways, I hope you liked this addition.
> 
> Thanks for reading and see you in the next one!


	8. Everyone Has A Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan had a talk with a kind doctor.  
> Remy and Roman finally had a brief talk.  
> And Virgil reflected on stuff.

“You look really tired, Mr. Fulgencio,” Patton said, looking down at the bland sandwich in his hands.

“Just Logan is fine.” Logan looked down at his untouched cup of tea. He was ordering black coffee, but the doctor interjected his idea, saying that it was too late for him to drink coffee. He had argued with the doctor that like coffee, tea also contain some amount of caffeine—but doctor Corwin was insistent, so he complied.

“Only if you agree to call me Patton,” the doctor answered briefly with a faint smile. “I actually hate it when people call me by my last name. Like, it’s so stiff and unfamiliar. All I want is to make friends with people, y’know.”

Logan nodded, looking at the doctor with a slight squint of the eye. Being casual was not Logan’s forte. In fact, anything that wasn’t formal or serious was  _ never _ Logan’s forte. He preferred to stay with his professional mask, so if he ever made a mistake he could quickly fix it without too much awkwardness lingering around him. Doctor Cor—Patton wasn’t anything like him, so Logan found it rather odd. Nevertheless, the kind-hearted man sitting in front of him seemed eager to hear about him—and while he was hesitant, Logan knew Patton was only a stranger, so no harm in telling the doctor anything.

“Alright, Patton,” Logan complied with the doctor’s request. “And yes, I  _ may _ be just a little worn out. I—you know my father is sick… and if anything were to happen, I do not wish to see my brother retreat into his own head.”

“How about you? What do  _ you _ feel? Of course, you’re worried about your dad and your brother, but what about yourself?”

“What I feel is of no importance. I am responsible for my family. I know I’ve already made a mistake by abandoning my brother when we lost our mother, and now I’ve neglected my father. It does not matter what I feel or think…” Logan trailed off, suddenly aware of his rising voice. Patton was still paying a careful attention, and Logan was surprised to see no trace of judgement on the doctor’s face. “I am uncertain what is the right thing to do now.”

Patton let out a long sigh. He shifted his attention back to the sandwich he was holding. The bread was starting to get soggy after absorbing the moisture of the sad tomato and lettuce. Whoever made this sandwich should have put more seasoning. He looked up at the brooding man again who was looking down at his folded hands in thought. The collar of Logan’s coat stuck to his neck, obstructing his face from view. How should he go about comforting Logan? The man seemed so distant with everything and everyone around him that a human magnet like Patton wasn’t even sure what to do.

Logan, still with his head bowed, tapped his fingers on the table in rhythm with the ticking of his watch. What will happen to Virgil if anything happens to their father? Back when mother died, Logan had made the mistake of shutting his brother out. He shouldn’t have been so selfish and didn’t remember his brother was grieving, too. And father…  _ ‘Why is father sick? Does it have to do with the tape we found?’ _ He should listen to it soon. Perhaps tonight.

“Logan, if I may ask,” Patton finally said, “what happened to your mother?”

“She —” Logan hesitated, but seeing only kindness in the doctor’s gaze, he continued. “Eight years ago her office burned. She—she burned with it.”

“Oh…” Patton had not expected that answer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It is all in the past now. I still think about her sometimes, but I’ve made peace with the past. I do not wish my father to meet the same fate as my mother,” Logan said somberly, now twisting the button on his shirt cuff. “Of course, everyone die eventually, but there are still so many things I haven’t done. I haven’t made my father proud.”

“Maybe. Maybe you haven’t. But maybe you have and you didn’t know.” Patton linked his fingers together in front of him and set his arms folded. “Or, you could do something now when you still can.”

Logan stayed quiet. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of making his father happy again for the last time. However, Logan knew there were many things he did in the past that should not be forgiven, yet Dante forgave him anyway. He remembered when he physically wounded his father after his mother’s death when his father only tried to console him. He recalled the time when he blatantly rejected his father. Looking back, he was furious that his father had accepted every rejection with patience. And he remembered how he left his brother alone when Virgil begged to be let in, when Virgil had sought comfort from him.

Now, he’d failed his family again. He should have cared for his father more before everything got out of hand.  _ ‘At least,’ _ Logan thought,  _ ‘I’d still have Virgil if anything were to happen.’ _

“I think I’ll go now,” Logan said, looking at his watch. It was  _ 22:21. _ He’d stayed in the hospital for too long. He’ll come back again tomorrow after work with Virgil.

“Okay, you want me to walk with you, Logan?”

“Um, that is kind of you. Thank you.”

They got up from their uncomfortable seats of the old chairs in the hospital canteen and walked to the main entrance without a hurry. The only people still in the building were the staff who were on alert for twenty-four hours. There were a few visitors that passed by every few minutes, some with worn faces just like Logan. Their footsteps echoed in the hallway, giving off an empty feeling in Logan’s mind.

“So, doctor,” Logan started, “why are you here? I don’t mean as a doctor, but why are you trying to talk to me? Doctors don’t usually care.”

“As I said, I wanna make friends.” The doctor smiled brightly. “Sure, patients carry a lot of weight with the knowledge of their diseases, but I think their families matters just as much. We’re all humans here.” The doctor bumped his shoulder lightly on Logan’s arm, making the tall man give a faint smile.

“I—uh… I don’t have many friends. I suppose I never see why I need anyone.”

“We all need friends, Logan. You always look so lonely, y’know. Um—I didn’t—I meant that you just always seemed so serious and stiff…” Patton stammered and trailed off, worried he might have offended Logan. “I mean, I—uh… Sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Logan brushed aside the doctor’s stuttering. “I don’t mind being alone. Doing everything alone makes it easier. I wouldn't have anyone to blame if I made a mistake. It’s safer that way.”

Patton looked up at the man walking next to him. He knew Logan was distant, but he didn’t think getting to him was going to be difficult. It seemed he was wrong. Perhaps next time he should start with something small, not heavy subjects like this. It would probably be easier if he were to not say anything at all. Yet, he wanted to know more about this quiet man. He always seemed to be deep in thought. Like he was carrying a weight on his shoulders that he wouldn’t let others see or let anyone help him carry it at all.

After a few minutes, they finally exited the long hallway into the foyer where the entrance was. They stared at the entrance for a few seconds before they looked at each other awkwardly. Logan immediately tore his gaze away, coughing into his fist to fill the silence.

“Well, I will be going. Thank you for your company,” Logan said, offering a hand to shake.

“You’re welcome, buddy. I guess I’ll see you again tomorrow.” Patton greeted Logan’s hand with his own, shaking it twice firmly before letting go.

Logan walked to his car with careful steps. He let the cool night breeze caress him, making his jet-black hair sway in the wind. Getting into his car, he sat in the driver seat for a few minutes before he was able to pull out of the parking lot. He  _ really _ didn’t want to go home.

 

* * *

 

“What’s wrong?” Roman pulled Remy away gently from his chest to look into his brother’s eyes. His shirt was soaked in the middle with tears, but he couldn’t care less about it. “C’mon, talk to me.”

Remy was still consumed by hiccups, unable to breathe properly. He took one of Roman’s hands and squeezed it tightly as if to anchor him away from his worries. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t voice out his jumbled thoughts. He looked up at Roman’s concerned gaze, ashamed that he had made a mess of himself and that he was being a burden to his brother. There was no clear thought in his mind that he could say other than one word: sorry. But sorry doesn’t fix anything. He’d made a mess, and he’d disturbed the peace that Roman and his roommate had. He should get out  _ now. _

“Sor-sorry I’ll—I’ll go now.” He shakily tried standing up, but Roman pulled him back.

“No, you’re not. You’re staying here, and you’re going to talk to me.” Roman stood up and fixed the bed, patting the pillow for Remy to lay down on afterwards. Remy scooted over to Roman, draping himself on his brother instead of on the bed. Roman only sighed and wrapped his brother in another hug. How could he not? It was adorable.

While this was happening, Virgil was pretending he did not exist. After burying himself in his blanket, Virgil observed the Armenteros brothers on the other bed. There was something about how Roman comforted his brother that made him unable to look away. Usually, Roman was brash and bold; always loud and dramatic. This, however, wasn’t like Roman at all. He was calm and gentle. He touched his brother with care, like Remy was something fragile that would break under his fingers.

How had Virgil never seen this side of Roman? The mellow and nurturing side that Roman hid under his cocky exterior.

He watched as Roman stayed quiet while Remy draped himself on his brother, burying his face in Roman’s stomach while Roman leaned back on the backboard. He turned his attention to the ceiling. There were times when he and Logan used to be like that. They’d climb to the roof with a blanket and lay side by side with hands intertwined. Logan would give him a mini lecture about the stars and he’ll cling to every word Logan said. They’ll let the gentle swish of the night breeze wrap them in a cool cocoon while they share their warmth with the press of their bodies.

He missed Logan. He missed the Logan who would laugh a lot. He missed the Logan who would sneak a dirty joke or two. He missed the Logan who wasn’t so serious all the time. He missed his brother. He’ll visit his dad again tomorrow. He hoped that everything would turn out alright; that their family won’t fall apart even more if anything bad were to happen.

“Okay, tell me what happened now,” Roman said lowly, trying to make his brother more comfortable.

“I—I failed my test again. I was actually making some progress y’know. _Like,_  I was getting better at this shit. I felt better about myself and then the shitty professor told me that I’m not trying hard enough… So I don’t know. I don’t know anymore,” Remy said in a frenzy, ignoring the hiccups that interrupted his words. “I’m so tired of trying hard. Not just in classes, but in everything. _Like,_ I don’t understand why everything is always wrong and I’m always so angry about every fucking thing.”

“Shh… it’s alright. If you think you need a break, you can stay out of class for a few days or a week maybe. I can come over every night, or you can come over here. I’m sure Virgil wouldn’t mind,” Roman directed his gaze to his roommate who was hidden under a pile of fabric, “right Virge?”

Virgil looked at Roman with disbelief. How was he supposed to say no now? Of course he wouldn’t want his peace to be interrupted every night, but seeing Remy’s somber eyes, he didn’t have the heart to refuse. Besides, seeing Roman looking at him with hope made his conscience cry out to him. He sighed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, it’s fine, man. If you guys need time alone, I could just go to my brother’s place.”

“Thanks,” Remy croaked out. He pushed his face onto Roman’s stomach again, breathing the calming scent that Roman gave off. Roman always smelled like mint and berries. “Ro, can I stay here?”

“Yea, sure. Don’t move too much, though, or else I’ll fall.”

After lending his brother a sleep shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Roman walked over to the bathroom to change into his pajamas. He then settled himself under the blanket next to his brother. They stayed quiet, having hushed conversations about nothing and everything under the blanket.

Virgil, once again, felt out of place. He was interrupting something intimate and he didn’t know how he should get out of the situation. He decided to climb out of his bed and opened a drawer in his desk that was dedicated to food and drinks. He took a tea bag and filled a cup with hot water that he kept in a thermos. He slowly sipped on his tea, looking over to where Roman and his brother laid in peace. Remy was now asleep with his head resting on Roman’s shoulder. The older Armenteros was lying awake, staring at the ceiling in thought.

“You—uh, you want tea, Roman?” Virgil didn’t usually start a conversation with Roman—in fact, he preferred to avoid Roman at all cost. But this time, there was something about Roman’s calm demeanor that made him look much more serious and it caught Virgil’s attention. “I can make you a cup.”

“I…” Roman trailed off. He stared at Virgil who was standing by his desk, leaning on it casually while blowing on the cup of tea in his hand. Virgil looked unusually cool—and handsome, too. “Uh, sure.” He shifted on the bed into a sitting position, being careful not to wake his brother.

A minute later, Virgil handed him the promised cup of tea. “What happened?” He asked Roman, gesturing to the sleeping figure on the bed.

“He’s… he gets stressed a lot. He wasn’t like this. He used to be so cheerful and alive all the time. He was—he was so happy and he had lots of people around him. Now, he’s always so cranky and… I know it’s not his fault. Something went wrong in high school, I think. The thing is, I don’t know  _ what _ went wrong. I really want to help him, but I’m scared I’m just making it worse.” Roman looked up at Virgil who was paying careful attention to his words. “I love him so much, I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said, fiddling with the string of his tea bag. He thought if Roman told him something, he should probably tell something, too. “My dad’s in the hospital. He has—he has cancer and he doesn’t have long.” There was a long pause before he continued. “It was the reason I moved here. Logan—my brother—he couldn’t pay for everything so I had to move here to help the financial burden. My brother and I, we used to be close. He’d laugh a lot and I’d laugh with him. Ever since… ever since mom died, things change.” Virgil looked down at his cup, watching the brown liquid move in slow spiral.

“I’m sorry, Virge.”

Virgil shrugged, drinking his tea and setting the empty cup on the desk. He buried himself in his blanket again, only leaving his head visible. “We all got our problems. I don’t have class tomorrow, so I’m going to visit my dad.”

Roman nodded and looked down at his sleeping brother. Hopefully, things will turn out fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back with another chapter. Hopefully this one was as good as usual. By that, I mean I hope it wasn't boring or anything like that. Tell me if there is something that you thought was lacking so I can improve. That's it for now, see ya in the next one!
> 
> ~ AJ


	9. Lost Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected guess made their visit to Dante's hospital room.  
> Virgil continued to inspect the small paintings and photographs.  
> Logan finally listened to the tape recorder and found something else in the velvet box he and his brother found. Nothing provided any clues to the cause of Dante's disease.

Morning was Dante’s favorite time. It was the start of a new day; and look, the sun was shining again, replacing the gloomy moon. Usually, he would get out of the confinement of his hospital bed and walked around the hallways, dragging around the inconvenient IV bag pole—or whatever it is you call it—until one of the nurses told him to go back since it was time for some meds. After complaining about injections, he would lay down on the bed with a book from Logan and wait until his sons come to visit.

That morning, however, had been different. He didn’t have the energy to get up and walk farther than the bathroom. Perhaps he was getting worse. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He couldn’t help but wonder what went wrong. He remembered when his little family used to be so happy. When he and Tella were just as childish and cheerful as their children. He sighed again, giving up on the train of thought he was following.

Just then, the door opened with a small click. It wasn’t uncommon Virgil would come in the morning when he didn’t have classes. He ignored the footsteps that echoed in the quiet room. That was, until he heard a familiar voice greet him. A voice he thought he’d never hear again.

“Hey, man.”

Dante looked up to see a man, just a little younger than himself with a black leather jacket wrapping his strong form perfectly. A pair of sunglasses hung from the collar of his white t-shirt. The man shared Dante’s straight nose and strong shoulder—a trait that most males in the Fulgencio family had. The man walked over to sit on the chair next to the bed and locked his gaze on the ill man on the bed.

“Wow, dude… you look like total shit.”

“How did you find me?” Dante asked with a defensive tone, furrowing his brows in annoyance.

“Um, I saw your kid—well, I assume he’s your kid ‘cos he’s like a duplicate of you—and just followed him to the hospital the other day. And then—”

“Wait, wait, you stalked my son? Which one? You hurt them, and I’m gonna finish you.”

“Chill, bro. I go to the coffee shop across the street often and I also see your kids coming in and out of the hospital a lot, so… since—since your wife isn’t here, I assume sum’s up with you. So, I just asked where your room was and here I am.”

Dante sighed and gave the man a small smile. He hadn’t seen this man in over fifteen years. He never thought of his old family anymore. He’d left the memory of his childhood behind, replacing them with new ones he built with his own children. He couldn’t believe who was sitting next to him. He didn’t think he would ever see him again.

“Good to see you again, Nate,” Dante said, leaning his head back on the bed. “I’m sorry I haven’t said anything in so long.”

“S’alright, bro,” Nate said with a smile, punching Dante’s shoulder lightly. “But to be fair, you’ve always been a shitty big brother.”

“Ya, I am, but who’s to say you’re not a pain in the ass yourself?”

“Geez, Dante, you still suck! I bet you’d prank your kids real hard.”

“Used to. Not anymore,” Dante said wistfully, rubbing his hand together and folding them across his stomach. “After—after Tella was—after that, something went wrong with our little family. Now we’re more like strangers.”

Nate looked at his brother carefully for the first time in over fifteen years. A lot has changed. The last time he’d seen his brother, Dante was full of energy. He remembered how Dante was what brought life to every conversation with his trademark snark and sarcasm. This Dante, however, seemed so subdued and nothing like what he used to be. His sick frame seemed to droop along with his mood. He didn’t have to see the IV bag hanging above his head to know something was wrong with his brother.

“What do you have, Dee?”

“I—it’s gonna sound ridiculous, but bear with me.” Dante held one hand up, as if bracing for an impact that will never come. “I have stomach cancer…” The words hung uncomfortably in the room.

“Oh… why didn’t you tell me, man?”

“I dunno…”

“See? This is your thing, always hiding stuff from everyone until it gets real bad!” Nate furrowed his brows and crossed his arms. “We—I could’ve done something.”

“Like what? I’m still dying anyway.”

The room became quiet with only the beeping of the heart monitor and the faint chirps of the birds outside the window. The two looked at each other, not saying anything as the light mood from before slowly seeped out to who knows where. The door opened again, followed by light footsteps before it stopped by the bed.

“Umm…  _ who _ are you?” Virgil said looking at Nate with cautious eyes. He walked over to the other side of the bed and placing a careful hand on his dad’s shoulder.

“See? Told ya he’s like a duplicate of you, man.” Nate looked over at his brother with a smile, leaning back on the chair and uncrossing his arms.

Dante sighed, patting Virgil’s hand that rested on his shoulder. “This is Nate. He’s my brother. The last time you saw him, you were three years old.”

“Oh… um, hi?”

“Relax, kid. I’m not gonna kill you or anything. I’m Natanael Fulgencio! Or like… uncle Nate will do.”

“O...kay,” Virgil replied awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He sat on the old sofa in the corner of the room, observing his dad chatting casually with his uncle. Weird, he thought, that he’d never seen his uncle at all. His dad didn’t look like he minded the presence of his uncle, so why did they lost contact? Small questions were popping up in his mind—questions he didn’t know whether he’ll get the answer to and eventually ignore.

Virgil reached into his backpack, retrieving his notebook and opening them to a page where he’d hid all the little paintings he found in the albums yesterday. He observed it carefully, mindful to keep it hidden from the two other people in the room. He’d brought the paintings that he hadn’t had the time to analyze yet. He took one card, feeling the rough edges where the paper was cut with his thin fingers. It was a painting of an ink bottle with a white feather resting next to it, bloodied with red ink. Did these paintings have meanings? He wouldn’t know. Not unless he finds who the artist was.

 

* * *

 

He clicked the bulky button over and over. Nothing happened. He clicked the button next to it, trying to get the recorder to work. Was something wrong with it? Perhaps it was broken. It would make sense considering its weathered exterior. Logan had procrastinated on listening to the tape recorder he found in the chest along with the albums that his brother had taken with him. He had owned a similar recorder when he was younger. He would use it to record short radio podcasts about nature and space and listen back to them when he was bored at night.

He turned to his working desk, opening a small drawer of the old cabinet behind him and took out a small screwdriver. He opened the plastic case and retrieved the old cassette. It still looked quite whole and intact. Putting it into his own recorder that he kept through all these years, he turned on the tape. He waited until a faint voice was heard. The voice became louder as he continued to listen. There were two distinct voices he could recognize. His father’s frustrated voice and his grandmother's stern voice. There was a very apparent tension in the argument they’re having, with both people in the recording speaking over each other. What they were arguing about, Logan was completely in the dark. The most confusing part was, the argument had been calm—no screaming or threats, only jabs of rude words.

“You know, a little bit of courtesy would go a long way.” The voice of his grandmother was heard. Her tone was distasteful and layered thick with sarcasm. “I had seen  _ part _ of that tonight.”

His grandmother, Lora, was an odd woman. Every time he visited his grandparents’ home when he was younger, Logan always noticed that his father had always been unusually quiet. His father had kept a distance with his grandmother in favor of spending his time with his grandfather and uncle instead. Logan never questioned his father’s behavior that was a deep contrast to his lively self at home compared to the somber aura he had around his grandmother.

“Well… well then, uh… that goes both ways,” Dante said with a calm, neutral tone. Though the strain in his voice was apparent. Logan could imagine his father lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

“Oh, yeah!” Lora said sarcastically, a slight huff in her voice. “Okay.”

“No, it’s something—”

“If you were to be nicer—”

“No. No, no. It’s not—”

“If you were to be nicer to your mother, we would get along much better.” Logan could clearly hear the harsh tone Lora had in her voice, intending to use her words as a weapon to attack her son.

“Mother,” Dante started with a sigh, “I  _ am _ nice to you.”

“This is still my house no matter what,” Lora said again sternly as if she was in control—and by the looks of it, she probably was.

“I—I know mother. You keep reminding me every time I—”

“And you will turn around and remind somebody else in your own house when you have done what _ I _ have done for you as a mother.” There was a long moment of heavy silence. Dante didn’t respond to his mother’s words, seemingly exhausted with the meaningless argument. Then, Lora’s voice was heard once more. “Hello, Dante, are you there, statue?”

Logan clicked the pause button, halting the recording. He didn’t know what to make of it. What argument were they having? His grandmother had been unnecessarily hostile towards his father, and it was uncalled for. What reason did she have to say those things to his father? From what he heard in the recording, his father had been trying to stay civil. Dante had not insulted her in any way. He did, however, deflected his mother’s sarcasm with his own.  _ ‘Well, guess now I know where Virgil gets his snark from,’ _ Logan thought to himself distractedly.

He put the recorder back to its place in the box and contemplated whether or not he should dispose of the old and broken one his father owned. He finally decided it was best to keep everything in the box. Those weren’t his belongings for him to decide their fate. Logan didn’t think the recording had anything to do with his father’s current situation. Perhaps he should investigate somewhere else.  _ ‘But where?’ _ He leaned back on his office chair in thought. Maybe he should have Virgil listen to the tape as well.

He looked over to the open chest that sat next to his chair on the floor. The dark velvet inside was still very smooth, an evidence that it was seldomly opened and touched. He lifted the box and placed it in front of him on the desk. He had never thought of giving the box itself an inspection. Sure, this small investigation wouldn’t help him solve the matter of what caused his father’s cancer, but it was a fun activity to kill the time. He took out the recording device he had put in the box moments ago and inspected the interior.

Aside form the velvet, there was nothing else.  _ ‘Oh… hold on…’ _ He ran his fingers on the wall of the chest again and found an opening. A pocket. It was built into the velvet lining and laid perfectly flat to the chest, making it invisible to the eyes through the soft hair of the velvet. He carefully slipped his small finger inside and found a small piece of paper. He pulled it out, finding it folded in the middle.  _ ‘A note…’ _

_ “Bring a recorder with you. I don’t want her to attack you again. If she does, at least you have an evidence this time. Please, just do as I say this one time, dear. I worry.” _

It was apparent the note was written in Donatella’s handwriting. Why? Why did she need to write a note when she could have said it instead? The note was most likely given to Dante for some unknown reason, and Logan didn’t know what it meant.  _ ‘I’ll look into this later. I still have to find other things to explain father’s condition for now. This will have to wait.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Okay, so I tried to upload this on Monday, but I couldn't. Sorry. I also tried to upload on Tuesday, but the fam dragged me to the Chinese New Year celebration. So here it is now, a very short chapter. I am so so sorry. I'll be off for the next three weeks, because I have exams. Oh my god, I need to stop neglecting this fic. Anyways, hope you like this and hope you'd come back for more.
> 
> See ya in the next one.
> 
> ~AJ


	10. Memories and Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were many memories of the past and things were lost.  
> On a side note, things may not be as bad in the present.

“Logan!” Virgil continued knocking on the thick door of his brother’s room. He hadn’t seen Logan in almost two days now and he missed his brother. Dad wouldn’t talk to him either, and he was starting to feel empty, as if there was a void inside his chest. “Open! Open the door!”

Today had been terrible. He had woken up quite late after dreaming about his mother. He missed his mom, and all he wanted was for her to hug him and tell him that it was going to be okay. After that, he had walked into his parents’ room where his dad had sat on the bed alone, staring at a picture that he held in his hands. He knew his dad was sad, too, just like he was. His eyes finally met his dad’s after a few minutes of standing by the door in silence.

“Go, Virgil. I’ll come out later.” His dad walked over to the door and shut it with a small click. 

Little Virgil could only sigh in defeat and walked into the small dining room. The room was barren, with no food on the table. There was no one to cook without mom here. When he caught a glimpse of their family photo, Virgil took the picture and sat on the floor cradling the thinly framed photographed in his hands. He could feel his eyes getting hotter and hotter as the seconds pass by. And finally, a drip. And another. Oh look, another one. The tears came in a steady flow as he suffered silently. Alone.

Why his mom had to go, Virgil didn’t understand. Mom was supposed to watch him graduate elementary school later this year. Mom was supposed to be there and hug him while Dad would laugh and make a stupid joke. His brother would be there, giving him a firm pat on the back and laughed with him at dad’s jokes. They were supposed to go to a fancy restaurant after the ceremony and mom would tell him how proud she is of him. Virgil was going to be a great student in middle school, and he was going to make his mom proud all over again. Dad would make him join in on his pranks in the house, and mom was supposed to be there to scold them. None of that will ever happen.

Why did mom have to go? It’s not fair his friends can still have their moms when he couldn’t have his. 

Why did mom have to go? A simmer of anger crackled to life in his chest. 

Why did mom have to go?

He stood up and put the frame back on the table, his fingers lingering on his mother’s sweet, smiling face for a second. He wiped his tears off carelessly and went out to the garden. Sometimes, dad would be outside, tending to the rose bushes that he planted only because he knew mom loved roses. Logan would be on the little reading nook under a hemsley snowball tree. Dad made the reading nook last summer; a bench with pillows thrown here and there. Usually, Logan would race outside and grab the pillows before running back into the house when it rained outside.

Virgil laid in the garden for a little while. Or perhaps it was a few hours. He watched the clouds move slowly across the sky, imagining shapes and patterns in the sky. If he looked hard enough, would he find mom looking down on him from heaven among the clouds? He wanted to see her, just one last time. She must be hurting up there. Dad didn’t let him and Logan see mom in the hospital before she went away. He missed her.

He turned to look at the rose bush by his side. There was a lady bug on one of the leaves. Its red body covered with black polka dots. On a normal day, Virgil would take the bug carefully to sit on his finger and bring it inside to his brother. He would ask a million question, many of which Logan would have the answer to. Logan is very smart! He knows so many things that even dad sometimes didn’t. His favorite thing to do with his brother is sitting in Logan’s room by the window with a telescope. Logan would tell him where to look and explain to him what he’s seeing. Space is enormous, Virgil realized quickly.

Sitting up, he took the little bug onto his finger. He observed the bug’s every little movement, careful not to hurt it. It seemed he had made a new friend.

“Hey…” Virgil whispered to the bug, trying to suppress the feeling of loneliness that crept in the back of his chest. “We’re the same, you know. We’re alone, so you’re gonna be my friend.

“My mom went away. She was in a fire, dad said. Now she’s dead…” Virgil trailed off, closing his eyes tightly to stop the tears from coming again. “What’s your name? I’m Virgil. People always make fun of my name, but Logan says it’s one of the characters in a poem written by Dante Ali- _ something, _ whatever his name is. Funny. My dad’s name is Dante. Oh and Logan is my brother. He’s cool and super smart, too.

“My brother’s seventeen years old. He talks about space a lot. I think space is cool, too. It’s so big, and we don’t know what’s up there. Logan said he wanted to be an astro—astronomer. Yeah, that’s the word. It’s someone who studies space and the universe. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up…” Virgil stopped for a moment, aware that it was silly to talk to a small ladybug which looked as if it would rather be anywhere but perching on Virgil’s finger. “How about I leave you here with the flowers? I’m going to go inside now.”

He carefully put the ladybug on the leave of the rose bush and rushed back inside. It was two in the afternoon now. Dad hadn’t come out of his room, and the house was eerily silent. Virgil walked to his room, only to pause in front of his brother’s shut bedroom door. Maybe he should be in there. He didn’t want to be alone.

“Hey, Lo…” Virgil tapped softly on the door, trying to gain his brother’s attention. “Logan, are you there?”

“What?” Logan’s strained voice was heard through the door. He didn’t want to see anyone at the moment.

“Can I come in? Please, Logan.”

“No. Go away.”

“Logan!” Virgil kept knocking on the door, this time more firmly. The tears were back  _ again. _ He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t understand why everyone around him pushed him away when they know mom isn’t there anymore. Why did everyone have to go when mom did, too? Small sobs spilled from his lips. Why didn’t his brother and father let him be with them? “Open! Open the door!”

That day, Virgil cried himself to sleep on the couch while Logan did the same in his bedroom. And Dante? He hid under the covers, clutching the blanket desperately, inhaling the scent of his lost love that lingered in the room.

 

* * *

 

The door opened, followed by the tap of shoes on the floor. Virgil was lying asleep on the couch while Dante was still speaking to his brother. Logan halted his steps by the hospital bed, looking over at his uncle who was sitting next to his father. Uncle Nate, he remembered, was a straightforward and easygoing man. From the little time he spent with his uncle during his childhood, he could see his father had a close relationship with his uncle. It was a mystery why he never saw his uncle anymore—a mystery that Logan never thought to solve and eventually forget.

“Hey, kid,” Nate greeted him with a smile as he leaned back on the chair. “Don’t remember you wearing glasses, pal.”

“I got my glasses when I was fourteen.” Logan gave a reserved smile, dropping his bag by the foot of the bed. He sat next to his sleeping brother, mindful not to sit on Virgil’s feet. “Nice to see you again, uncle.”

Logan let his uncle and father go back to their conversation, having little interest to catch up on things with his uncle. He was never very close to Nate anyways. He didn’t actually know what he was doing there. Logan only felt it was the responsible thing to do to visit his father even if he wasn’t going to do anything there. He looked down on his brother’s sleeping figure, trying to remember the last time he saw his brother look this peaceful. The violet dye on Virgil’s hair was starting to fade, revealing the dark brown hair that was hidden underneath. It was then that Logan noticed the card-sized papers that Virgil had on his loose grip.

Carefully, he took the small cards. Paintings. Intricate and detailed paintings with no specific theme in particular. There was one with a feather and a bottle of red ink and another one of a broken violin. Logan didn’t understand the meanings of these painting—if there were any at all. Seeing his father and uncle were still engaged with a conversation, he interrupted them by clearing his throat.

“Um, father, do you know anyone in our family who has anything to do with artistry or music? Or both perhaps?”

“Well…” Dante trailed off, glancing over at Nate who was looking at Logan with an intense gaze.

“I am,” Nate said, sounding a little more serious than his previously relaxed tone. “I wanted to be an artist when I was younger. I thought I could go to an art academy and make my name as an artist. I didn’t care if I’ll be famous or make it big in the art industry, I just wanted to do my interest as a living. But then…”

“It was  _ her. _ The woman—you know who I’m talking about, Logan—didn’t let him do that.” Dante furrowed his brows rather severely. There were some remnants of animosity that still stayed with him till this day. It was frustrating to see his mother crush his brother’s dream while he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

“Yep!” Nate said with a small smile, which to Logan looked a little constipated. “Didn’t go to art school.  _ But, _ I did major as an architect. Didn’t like the math, but did it for the art.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry that happened. I—uh, that’s an interesting story,” Logan responded, not expecting the answer that he received.

“Why’d you ask, Logan?” Dante asked with a strain in his voice that Logan had only just noticed.

“Um, nothing. I suppose, I wanted to know where Virgil’s artistic abilities came from.” Logan pushed the tiny paintings into Virgil’s bag, knowing well the signatures on the artworks were not his brother’s. “It was only a curiosity.”

Logan looked down on Virgil who hadn’t moved a single inch. Even his breathing seemed very slow and deep. Only now did he realized he missed this; silent moments with his brother and he can return to his childhood when they were nothing but children. He will have to tell Virgil many things—the broken tape, for one—and he needed to ask questions. Many questions. Logan had intended to inspect the collection of daggers on his own, but now he was starting to think that perhaps it was better if they investigate it together.

He nudged on Virgil’s back, making the younger groan in annoyance. He tried one more time, aware that he had earned his father and uncle’s attention. He poked Virgil’s stomach, getting another groan.

“Fuck off…” Virgil murmured in his sleep, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Logan could hear his father’s chuckle. And Logan himself couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips.

“Wake up, Virgil,” Logan nudged his brother again.

“I’ll fight you… bitch.” Virgil muttered again as another snicker of amusement was heard from Dante.

Logan sighed, still with a smile. He kneeled on the floor by Virgil head and took his phone. Scrolling through his phone, he finally placed it by Virgil’s ear. Two or three seconds later, the g-note opening of  _ Welcome to the Black Parade _ was heard echoing in the room. Still, no reaction from Virgil. Logan waited patiently until the music became louder and the electric guitar boomed.

Virgil bolted up on the couch, clutching his chest out of surprise. Dante and Nate were laughing and so was Logan. Virgil looked behind him to see Logan laughing rather uncontrollably, and something in him clicked. This was what it used to be like. The house was always filled with laughter and voices—there was never a boring day in the Fulgencio household. Virgil couldn’t help but let out his own laugh.

“Logan, you  _ dickhead! _ ” Virgil exclaimed, trying to sound angry only to fall into another fit of laughter. It wasn’t even funny. Nothing which just happened was funny. It was only the fact that they found something that they once lost that made a big wave of relief washed over them—not only the brothers, but perhaps Dante, too. “I’m gonna kill you one day, and it’s going to look like an accident.”

“Hah!” Nate shouted from his seat. “He even  _ sounds _ like you, Dee!”

“Oh, shut up! He’s  _ my _ _son_ after all, you big dummy!”

And as the laughter subsided, Dante thought to himself what it could have been.  _ ‘Maybe, when they let me out of here everything will turn out fine.’ _ However, Dante knew it was only hopeful thinking he could ever return home at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am back, people! For those who don't know, I have exams for the past two weeks, plus a university entrance exam on the following weekend. It was exhausting, but I managed. And here go, another chapter! I was supposed to update this tomorrow, but I thought it'd be better if I update earlier to make up for the delay so I can post a new chapter tomorrow.
> 
> Yes, get ready for a back-to-back update. See ya in the next one!
> 
> ~ AJ

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, lovely readers! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> *inhales deeply* please, leave some comments, I cannot tell you how important they are to me, because they help me improve my writing and your comments tell me what you like and don't like so, please leave a feedback there!
> 
> However, if you choose not to comment, that's fine, too! You're still awesome!
> 
> LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH!!
> 
> p.s. English is not my first language, so there might be errors in my writing. Do tell me if you find them. I'm improving though, so that's good!
> 
> ~ AJ


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